Black Lagoon: The Ballad Of Ashur
by Ricknarok
Summary: After Rock and Revy arrive back in Roanapur from a trip to Venezuela, Lagoon Company return to the grind by accepting a string of new jobs, one of which takes them overseas. Meanwhile, the Wolf learns a secret has been kept from him, one that sends him on his worst killing spree yet… 'Book 1 of the "City of Light" Trilogy."
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Colombian Gambit

The low hum of the air conditioning was the only sound Dutch could hear as he sat there, newspaper in hand. It was hot today, hotter than it had been in a while. Even in his tank top with the cool breeze of the humming machine on the wall washing over him, he could feel himself sweating. He snatched up the unopened can of beer on the table in front of him and placed the cool metal to his forehead in an attempt to cool himself down. It did not help that much.

"Well, shit," Dutch grumbled grumpily. "Might as well be pouring piss all over myself." He was normally in a fairly amicable mood unless something in particular was amiss, but this morning Dutch was cranky. That was due in no small part to the fact that both Rock and Revy had seen fit to leave Roanapur days ago to see to a job Garcia Lovelace apparently had for them. The details were scarce, but from what had been told to him, the family was being harassed by a local gang hobbled together from cartel runaways and former terrorists. The boy had seen fit to send a messenger, a priest by the name of Pius who claimed to be a friend of the family. After that, two quarters of Lagoon Company left the country without looking back. Dutch had been away from them before when they had been on jobs together.

It was not a foreign concept to him, to be separated from them, nor was he unusually upset by their absence, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on than he knew. Not only that, but he had received a peculiar phone call earlier in the morning, a call from Abrego. The leader of the Colombian cartel here in Roanapur seldom contacted Lagoon for anything but he seemed enthusiastic over the phone about a job he had for them. Dutch had agreed to meet him later on to discuss the details. The fact that he was essentially accepting a job without two of his most valuable colleagues brought a sense of urgency and haste to the whole situation. He just hoped they would return from Venezuela soon. Then, they could really return to the grind.

It had been a long road to where they were, one littered with empty shell casings, bodies and ruins. A true return to form was welcome, in Dutch's eyes. He had had his share of war-crazed maniacs hell-bent on destroying this or that. He just wanted to go back to accepting the standard jobs he was used to before all of that. Benny came in through the door of the apartment shortly, fanning himself with a magazine as he did so.

"Jesus, it's like walking through the Sahara out there," he complained. "Is the AC on?"

"Sure is," Dutch told him. "But it might as well be broken. Don't know why we wasted our money on the damn thing."

"Well, I don't want to think about how fucked we'd be without it." He immediately went to stand beneath the cool air, unbuttoning his shirt to let it wash over him. Dutch did not look too pleased that he was essentially blocking the flow of the air. "Have you heard anything from the others?"

"Not yet," Dutch told him. "They must still be in Venezuela."

"Not one word?" Benny asked. There was a touch of concern in his voice. "That's unusual. We ought to give them a call and see how it's going."

"Maybe," Dutch conceded weakly. He was not particularly worried for their safety. He knew well they could handle themselves, especially against some ragtag group of wannabe gangsters. "But that's not important right now. I got a call from the Colombians."

"Abrego?" Benny asked as though he hadn't quite heard that right. "That's strange. What did he want?"

"He claims he has a job for us. He sounded like he wants us on it as soon as possible. Asked me to meet him later at Lao's restaurant."

"What would the cartel want with our services?"

"Beats me," Dutch admitted. "But he didn't sound too confident when he called. I feel like he fucked up and he wants us to clean up his mess." Benny fell onto the couch across from Dutch and moaned audibly.

"You think he pissed off Balalaika or Chang?"

"Possibly. More than likely he tried to make a deal that went south. Now he wants us to get him out of whatever stream of shit he's been dropped in before the other cartels get wind of it." That sounded very plausible. The cartels rarely called on an outfit like the Lagoon Company for anything. They operated far differently than Hotel Moscow or the Triad. They never seemed to have need for smugglers or pirates, or at least that was the official line. If Abrego was calling them now, he must have gotten in over his head. And in this city, that meant he had done something that would eventually lead to him being put at odds with the ruling factions or other cartels. In that regard, Dutch hoped he hadn't done anything too serious.

If he discovered Abrego had caused the death or injury of some of Hotel Moscow's men, for instance, he would be forced to walk away from this job. That was a mess he wasn't willing to clean up. Then again, Lagoon accepted jobs in the past that put their relationship with Balalaika in a precarious position. As long as they were getting paid and they weren't being pointed at Roanapur's leaders, there wasn't much they wouldn't do. Then again, Lagoon Company were not the same group as they had been long ago. Things had changed. Dutch would need to be careful if he wanted to remain on good terms with the ruling factions.

"Maybe we should wait until the others get back," Benny suggested. "We aren't going to be much use just you and me if Abrego is in as much trouble as it sounds like he is."

"True. But we can't afford to just wait around, either. We don't know when Rock and Revy will be back. They could be out there for another two weeks for all we know. And Abrego wants to meet later today. We haven't got much choice here."

"You could just tell him no," said Benny, though even he did not seem too enthusiastic about that. Dutch grunted.

"That's just bad for business, Benny-Boy," he said derisively. "Things are only just settling back down and you want to go refusing jobs?"

"Alright, Dutch, I get your point. Well, you won't know what he wants until you meet with him. Might as well find out how much trouble he'll be getting us into." Dutch could agree there. Only now, the city seemed to be returning to how it had been before the string of attacks and invasions that rocked it to its core. True, the city had evolved, as had its residents, into better versions of themselves. Things had improved from certain perspectives. But there was less pressure and fear permeating the air, now. It truly felt like things could finally return to what passed for normality, here. And the first step in seeing to that was for Dutch to meet with Abrego to find out what he wanted. Lagoon had a chance to get back to accepting their usual types of jobs and earning a real living again.

When the time came to finally head to the restaurant, Dutch took the car and went straight there. He did not want to waste any time, especially considering how urgent the Colombian had sounded earlier. Dutch pulled up outside Lao's and went inside. Abrego, accompanied by four of his men, sat at a table by the back window. He was currently in the middle of a meal. His men stood guard behind him and the chair across from him was empty. Dutch grabbed it, flipped it around, and sat, the backrest pressed firmly against his chest. He nodded in greeting. Abrego looked up from his plate slowly.

"Dutch. Glad you could make it. I wasn't sure you'd ever come out of your cave after the crazy fucking year and a half you've had."

"What can I say, man's gotta eat."

"I hear that," Abrego told him smarmily. "Even after everything, things haven't changed, have they? The dogs still eat each other alive in the street and we still have to put food on the table, isn't that right?" Dutch smirked effortlessly.

"True enough. Now, about this job you mentioned…"

"Ah, of course," Abrego said, setting down his knife and fork. He clasped his hands in front of him.

"Before I fill you in, I need to make it clear that this is between us, Dutch. I don't want this to get back to the Russians, or even the Chinese. You get what I'm saying?" Dutch rolled his eyes beneath his sunglasses. He expected this to be a clean-up job on Lagoon's part, but it sounded like Abrego really messed up somewhere.

"Client confidentiality is a priority to me, Abrego," he assured the Colombian. "You can relax."

"Good to know," Abrego replied, satisfied. "My men and I met with a local pirate gang recently. We'd been importing our merchandise through the usual routes. They were offering quicker delivery at a fraction of the cost."

"Looking to cut down on your expenses, Abrego?" Dutch asked. He made no attempt to mask how foolish he found that notion. "Sounds to me like you were asking for trouble."

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Dutch," Abrego spat, despite evidence to the contrary. "I knew the risk involved in this. You can blame that cocksucker from Hong Kong. He squeezed us all when he tried to wage a fucking war with Fry-Face. If we were going to keep our place, we needed to cut our costs. I planned to sort out the rest later."

"Let me guess," Dutch began, "you thought you could use these pirates to transport your product at cheaper rates and then deal with any slack after the fact. But then they went and crossed you, didn't they?"

"Look, I get it, Dutch, it was a dumb fucking move," Abrego growled. "We're getting desperate, here. You can't tell me profits haven't dropped for you guys since the Big Bad Wolf started sniffing around here."

"I'd be lying if I said we hadn't come on hard times," Dutch admitted. "But that's why I'm here, Abrego. It's time to get back to doing what we do best." Abrego did not reply to that, but he seemed to agree.

"Anyway, those fucking jumped up bandits grabbed someone we had working for us. A Yankee bitch by the name of Alexis."

"I don't know the name."

"That's surprising," Abrego said. "You'd like her, Dutch. She's worked for a few smugglers in her time. We had her taking in the deliveries at the dock. That's when the fuckers grabbed her. Now they're holding her for ransom. They say if they don't get one hundred thousand American dollars by next week, they'll put a bullet in her head. What fucking cheek."

"What's this girl to you, Abrego?" Dutch asked him. "You don't strike me as the type to waste resources trying to save someone who got herself kidnapped."

"Well, that's the problem, Dutch. She's not one of mine. Let's just say she was loaned to me for a couple of months and leave it at that. But if something happens to her on my watch, it's my ass. You understand?"

"I do," Dutch told him. He would have liked more information, but he supposed that would have to do. What struck him as odd was that this Alexis was American. That effectively ruled out Hotel Moscow as the employer that loaned her to Abrego. Not only that, but Balalaika was not overly fond of the Colombians. She refused to deal with them at all unless it was absolutely necessary. In all honesty, that gave Dutch some relief. At least if this went south, it wouldn't be the Russians coming after him.

"So, what do you say, Dutch? Interested?"

"You follow through with the payment we discussed on the phone and point me in the right direction, and we'll do whatever you want, Abrego. I just hope this doesn't bite us in the ass later."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Restless

The door of the apartment opened shortly after six that evening. Rock was the first to cross the threshold, followed closely by Revy. The way they held themselves did not go unnoticed by Dutch. Clearly, something had happened in Venezuela that hadn't quite been planned. Rock, too, looked as though he had been beaten, though not too severely. Dutch did not say anything immediately, they could fill him in later.

"Would you look who it is, Benny," the black man said enthusiastically. "Seems like years since I spoke to you two." Benny, whose head had been planted in the fridge, turned to see the others just as Revy shut the door.

"Shit, I was wondering when you two would come back," he told them.

"We weren't gone that long, were we?" Rock asked, abashed. In actuality, they had been fairly quick. It had only taken a few days to finish out the job Garcia called them for. Dutch was relieved they wouldn't be spending a week or more out there. He wanted them back home with him, under his employment. Considering his meeting with Abrego earlier today, he certainly needed them now.

"I'm just glad you two are back," Dutch said. "I trust everything went off without a hitch?" He knew that wasn't true, but he decided to let them explain, if they were in a sharing mood. Their expressions gave it away instantly. Their little getaway hadn't gone according to plan.

"Pfft. Well, that's bullshit," Revy groaned, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "The 'Young Master' was in way over his head. Just lucky I was there to save his snotty little ass from those chumps." Her voice became higher-pitched in an attempt to mimic Roberta when she referred to Garcia the same way his maid did. Dutch found that amusing.

"That bad, huh?" he asked.

"They invaded the Lovelace estate," Rock explained. "Forced the family to their knees and almost killed Roberta and Wolf."

"How's that?" asked Benny, clearly confused already.

"One of them wanted the bitch dead," Revy went on. "Turns out they had a deal with this other asshole. He wanted Wolfy turned over to him. But me and my boys made sure that didn't happen." She patted her Cutlasses affectionately.

"So, you killed them, then?" Dutch asked her. Revy's smirk faded and she became irritable.

"They got away," Rock said glumly. "Or, well…three of them did, anyway. Most of their people were wiped out in Venezuela, but the leaders managed to escape." That wasn't exactly what Dutch wanted to hear. He had hoped that whatever business Revy and Rock had been involved in would be finished and forgotten about afterwards. Considering three people who were presumably not very happy with Revy right now still roamed freely, it was not outside the realms of possibility that they would have a bone to pick with Lagoon Company at some point. But Dutch supposed he could let that slide for now. That was not an immediate issue that required his attention.

"Well, shit," Lagoon's leader groaned, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the table. "I guess it's an understatement to say things could have gone better." Revy scoffed.

"That's putting it fucking mildly, Dutch."

"Still, that's not what concerns me right now. Whoever those assholes are, they can wait. We've got a job." Rock and Revy both came to attention, then. They were clearly not expecting more work so soon, but it would almost be a welcome change after Venezuela. Deep down, they shared Dutch's sentiment, that the best thing for them would be to return to the grind and settle back into the city proper.

"From who?" Rock asked, taking a seat on one of the couches. Revy fell into the other one and placed her hands behind her head.

"Abrego, of all people."

"No shit?" Revy asked. "What did that waste of space want?"

"He's gotten himself into a bit of a situation," Dutch began, making sure to explain as many of the details as possible without boring the others. "Supposedly, he tried to bargain with a local pirate crew to deliver his merchandise. In response, they kidnapped the woman he had taking the deliveries into the dock. He wants us to go get her back." That didn't seem to concern either of them too much.

"Why the fuck does he care so much about her?" Revy asked. "Wouldn't Abrego usually just cut his losses and forget he knew her?"

"That's what we thought," Benny chimed in, taking a seat beside Rock. "But he claims this 'Alexis' was never one of his to begin with. From what he told Dutch, it sounds like one of the other gangs lent her to him for this job. And if they find out she got in trouble under his temporary employment, they'll be coming for him."

"So we're basically wiping his ass so this doesn't get back to his friends," Revy put it eloquently. "Great."

"Hey, it's something," Benny told her. "Better than sitting on our asses all day long, huh?"

"Speak for yourself," she retorted. "We just got back from a job, remember? And we didn't even get fucking paid for it."

"That's not technically true, Revy," Rock reminded her. Revy frowned at that.

"Who offers to pay five grand for what we did?! Kid had us take out half the fucking country and that's all he offers us? I told him to shove it."

"Actually, you told him to shove it and then tried to get him to hand it over anyway," Rock reminded her, smiling as he did so. "Anyway, I wasn't exactly expecting payment for this. Considering Pius asked us to get Garcia out of a difficult situation, I assumed he couldn't afford to compensate us. We just did a good deed, that's all."

"What, did your balls fall off, Rock?!" Revy snapped. "If that was a good deed, then consider it mine for the fucking year. You want to play Mother Teresa, you go right ahead. But I am _pissed_ about this." There was silence for a few moments.

"So, when does Abrego want us to do this?" Rock asked, finally, as Revy stewed silently on the couch.

"As soon as we can," Dutch told them. They all knew what that meant. "Sorry, you two. I know you probably wanted to catch up on some beauty sleep after Venezuela, but we can't afford to just wait around, either. I'll be calling you bright and early in the morning." Revy groaned and turned over on the couch, wrapping her arms around her head.

"At least tell me we're getting paid for this," she murmured.

"We sure are," Dutch told her. "Thirty grand. These guys are supposedly based out of Rayong but Abrego tells me they've got a ship out in the Gulf. That's where he says they've taken the hostage."

"A ship?" Rock asked, immediately coming to the conclusion that that didn't add up. Pirates never sailed large vessels that took any significant amount of time to get places. They preferred speed and precision over size and durability.

"Yeah, a cruise ship. It's stolen, obviously. Hijacked. But it sounds like they're using it for the time being to keep a few hostages and supplies. That's where we'll be headed. It's a simple rescue mission, in and out with Alexis and back to Roanapur." For the sake of his colleagues' sanities, Dutch hoped it would be as simple as he was trying to convince them. The last thing they needed now was for this to blow up in their faces when they least expected and bring heat down on Lagoon Company. It was still unlikely, considering everything. Balalaika had relaxed her grip on the city and other internal conflicts that did not concern her could be resolved with ease. But that didn't necessarily mean everything was going to go off without a hitch, either. Still, this was already promising. Despite himself, Dutch was almost eager about the prospect of beginning this job. It signalled a long overdue return to form that may well settle in and remain with them. And, if nothing else, it would surely offer some excitement. Part of Dutch's philosophy deemed that life had no point if it was not exciting every once in a while, a sentiment no doubt shared by Revy.

"Well, as long as I get to shoot someone, I'll be happy," Revy told him. "Even if this job turns out to be complete shit, I bet there'll be a lot of those fuckers to take out on that ship. My fingers are twitching just thinking about it." She started laughing, then. It didn't take long for her to retire to her room. She was probably tired, after all. And if Dutch followed through on his promise to wake her early, she likely wanted to get as much sleep as possible before unleashing her Cutlasses on the unsuspecting pirates.

"You look tired, Rock," Dutch piped up, lowering his newspaper just a few inches to look the Japanese man in the eyes. "You should probably get some rest, too."

"You're not mad about what happened in Venezuela?"

"Not really," Dutch said honestly. "That doesn't really concern me, right now. Unless those assholes come directly to the door asking for you two, we don't really have a problem." That was true enough. Rock knew that they were in no position to do anything right now anyway. Their cause had been weakened too much by Revy's interference. Still, he hoped that when the time came for them to act, they would be stopped in their tracks.

"That's true," Rock agreed. "Besides, I'm more concerned about Garcia. He hates this city. It must be killing him knowing the three men that put his family on their knees are out there somewhere." Dutch dropped the newspaper onto his lap altogether when he heard that.

"You mean he's in Roanapur right now? You failed to mention that, Rock." The Japanese man scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed that he had forgotten such a significant detail.

"Oh, I did, didn't I? Sorry." Dutch seemed tense for a moment before sighing deeply.

"It's alright. I guess it isn't that big of a deal after all. The maid isn't exactly in any condition to cause any trouble and Garcia should keep his head down if he's smart."

"The only reason he came is because he didn't feel safe in the estate anymore," Rock explained. "Not after those people forced their way in." That was only natural. Garcia seemed to be walking a dark path, a long winding road through unfamiliar stretches of shadow. No matter what he did, it seemed like he was constantly called back to Roanapur against his will. Rock just hoped that he would come out the other side and be free of the darkness that waited oh so patiently nearby. He was lucky to have escaped before, but recent events seemed to be forcing him back into danger.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be fine here," Dutch mused. "It's not his first time in the city, after all. And he's a smart kid. He'll figure it out." Rock rose from the couch, then, and started to make his way to his room. Dutch grabbed his arm just as he passed the big man's chair. "Hey, Rock…"

"What is it, Dutch?" He released Rock's arm.

"Keep an eye on Revy, will you? I know that glint in her eyes. If I know her as well as I think I do, she's gonna need you to talk to her. This is the beginning of something. I just want to make sure she doesn't lose herself along the way."

"And what about me?" Rock asked. "You're not worried I'll lose my way?" That was intended as a joke, but Dutch clearly considered those words very seriously.

"Of course I am, Rock," he said. "But you know what Revy is like. Let's worry about one loose cannon at a time."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Call Of The Pack

The door of the apartment creaked softly as Wolf opened it. He crossed the threshold slowly, glancing around him as though to make sure the place wasn't too messy. Considering Roberta followed him inside, that did not seem odd. Then again, she did not seem like she would be picky about any kind of mess she may find inside.

"Where did Garcia say he was staying?" he asked, then.

"Sankanpalace was the name, I believe," Roberta said quietly. The establishment was in a different part of Roanapur. It was well known as being a lavish, expensive hotel. Few of the city's common criminals could afford to stay there, but Garcia still had money. Not much, but enough to afford him a certain lifestyle, even here. Pius and Fabiola accompanied him there for protection should the need arise. Roberta had been tempted to remain by his side. She certainly intended to. Every moment away from him felt like an age. But she had informed him that she would follow the Wolf back home, instead. At least for the time being.

She played the decision off as personal preference, convincing the others that she simply intended to make sure the assassin settled back into the city before she would inevitably re-join her family. In truth, there was a specific reason she had decided to follow Wolf home. There was something he did not know, something Roberta learned back in Venezuela. She was clever enough to deduce that he hadn't been told by the others. They had more than likely decided to keep him in the dark regarding this particular issue. That was all well and good, but Roberta knew what it was like to have the demons of the past haunt your every move, sinking their claws into your very soul. Wolf deserved to know and she intended to tell him.

"He's living it up, even in this city," Wolf said. "Well, at least he's got the other two with him just in case."

"The Young Master will have ample protection," Roberta agreed. "I do not wish to think about him coming to harm, but I do not believe they will allow anything to happen." Wolf turned to face her for the first time since they entered the apartment.

"I gotta say, place feels emptier than it was," he said.

"The others left," Roberta deduced. She knew, of course, that the others that had been here during the Dead Men's siege of the city had gone back home, she was just reiterating that point. Wolf nodded. His eye came into full view, now, the sunlight seeping through the window to really outline the damage that had been done. His skin was bruised all around the socket and the eye itself was almost completely red, bloodshot.

"They sure did," he confirmed. "Was strange getting used to the quiet again." Memories of the last time Roberta had been in the city came back to her, images of the others who had been at this apartment, of many killers gunning each other down in the streets, of Wolf alone by a pile of ash. "I missed ya." He stretched his arms out beside him theatrically and smirked, baring his teeth mischievously. Though he delivered that sentiment with a clear humorous tone, it was not necessarily a lie. In truth, she had missed him, too. She saw pieces of herself in the assassin. They both shared a similar fate, with too many parallels that mirrored one another. Both of them had endured similar situations and they each seemed to be forced to deal with the sins of their pasts, one way or another. That thought brought a faint feeling of sorrow to Roberta.

Wolf must have noticed this, his smile fading slowly. His cheeks flushed with colour. He must have been under the impression he made her uncomfortable. Clearly embarrassed, he turned away from her and headed towards his room. "Anyway, make yourself comfortable," he called back to her, removing the holster and gun from his leg and hanging them from a hook in the wall. "There's not a whole lot to do around here, but I'm sure we'll find something. Excitement seems to find us more often than not. All we gotta do is wait." While Wolf seemed to be shuffling things around in his room, Roberta took a step forward and placed her hand on the cold, wooden table near the wall. To the untrained eye, it did not appear particularly noteworthy or out of the ordinary. But Roberta noticed it immediately. There was blood in that wood, her blood, soaked into the table. The scent of it filled her nose as she shut her eye and breathed deeply.

She saw Lucille, the soldier who had seen to her wounds after her skirmish with Max Kepler. She remembered Usagi, the young girl in Wolf's care who never quite seemed to lose that innocent, childlike personality, even in the face of the darkest depravity she had seen. Then, bleaker images filled the maid's head, older memories. She spotted faceless soldiers, Colombian revolutionists sent to engage her. Their blood splattered across the walls and floors of the hallway, Roberta's fists beating them mercilessly as she fought her way through those she at one point may have considered comrades. Then there was another, a man who managed to apprehend her. Her skills were impressive, but even he was not so easily felled. He managed to best her in combat, pinning her down and mocking her where she lay. There was a ringing in Roberta's ears, but even that did not drown out the man's words. _It seems the Bloodhound is still as ferocious as ever._

"Wolf!" she called, gently rubbing her forehead. The assassin came back into the room hurriedly, having removed his jacket and shirt. He looked concerned.

"What is it?" he asked her. She was silent as she waited for the ringing to subside. Wolf squinted at her. "Roberta?"

"There is something you should know," she said at last. He waited for her to elaborate, clearly under the impression she had something of importance to say. "Back at the estate, when Ashur grabbed you…he began speaking. He said some things I believe you did not hear." Wolf furrowed his brow before an expression of understanding appeared on his face.

"That's right," he said. "I thought I could hear something, but…well, my memory isn't too clear." He returned his gaze to her, waiting once more.

"We did not understand why Ashur sought your death so badly," Roberta continued. "It sounded like he had been hunting you for some time, but he never had a reason that we knew of. Then he entered the estate and started beating you."

"Roberta," Wolf repeated, quieter this time. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"He mentioned the woman who trained you," she told him at last. "Sif. He spoke of your old Wolf Pack as though he knew them. It…it sounded like he sought your death because of the part you played in their downfall." And just like that, Wolf zoned out completely. He could no longer hear her words, nor did he even take note of where he was or what he was doing. Instead, he just stood there, motionless. It was as though his entire being shattered like glass into hundreds of tiny fragments and he was left there, helpless, just watching it happen. His whole body was numb for what seemed like hours as his addled mind tried so hard to process the words he had just heard.

"Wolf!" the voice came for what the assassin realised was a third time. He snapped out of it as best he could. But not entirely.

"Sorry, I, uh…" He had no words. This wasn't anything like what he was expecting. Wolf Pack had been expansive and dangerous, but they disbanded after the death of their leaders. Sif and most of her high-ranking employees died that day. Her organisation was no more. Wolf hadn't ruled out the idea that former members would come for him one day, but none had since Sif's death. It seemed Ashur was biding his time until the right moment. That moment had been in Venezuela when he beat Wolf within an inch of his life.

"I understand this must be a lot to process," Roberta told him. "I know too well what it is like to be hunted by the demons of the past. This will eat away at you." That wasn't comforting, but Wolf was still glad she had told him. What was worse was that the others had apparently seen fit to keep this information from him. Most if not all of them had some knowledge of Wolf's past, enough that they would know the name Sif. And yet, only Roberta had seen fit to reveal this information. But that wasn't important. Ashur was out there somewhere. He wanted Wolf dead and he had some connection to Wolf Pack. He needed to be found.

"Well…I appreciate you telling me," he told her. "I'm not sure what to do with that right now, but at least I know." He seemed to hesitate as he decided how to proceed before gently placing his hand on the back of Roberta's head and placing his forehead to hers. She reciprocated. "Thanks." They remained there for a few moments, the setting sun's light fading ever so slowly and their forms being shrouded in shadow. They both seemed to lean into one another simultaneously. They could feel the warmth from one another's bodies, a gentle sort of comforting heat that almost served to remind them they were still human. Their lips met softly as Wolf's hand reached for her shirt and hers for his belt.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, an ethereal haze that seemed to pass Wolf by all too quickly. He laid there beside her, the soft fabric of his bedsheets ruffled around his waist. Sleep eluded him tonight. He hadn't expected it to, but this new information had seen fit to burrow its way into his thoughts. His mind felt disconnected and unstable, almost like it was not his own anymore. He turned to look at Roberta. She was sleeping, her body rising and falling gently with her breaths. He would let her rest. She certainly deserved it. He rose slowly and made his way out of the room, making his way into the spare room. It had been used for storage up until Usagi came to Roanapur. Back then, he cleared out all his belongings to allow her to stay. After she left, everything had been moved back in there.

Wolf knew what he was looking for. He moved a few crates around before he found what he was looking for. It was a trunk, brown and battered looking. It was not locked. He undid the clasps and opened it, revealing the clothes within. It was an outfit he hadn't seen in a long time, one he never truly expected to be looking for any time soon. But he needed it, now. Ashur was out there, somewhere. He had answers to questions Wolf thought had long been forgotten. The assassin needed to find him. It wouldn't take long to find the scent of this stray dog. After that, there would be hell to pay.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Battle On The Gulf

"We're about ten minutes out," Dutch spoke low into the Lagoon's radio. "According to the radar, the ship isn't moving. They're just sitting ducks out here."

"That sounds about right," Abrego's voice replied. "Our information told us these fucking clowns are using it as a base of operations. They shouldn't be using it to get around, Dutch. They should make for easy targets."

"Well, ain't that just music to my ears," Dutch told him before shutting off the radio. He knocked on the glass in front of him. Revy was sat on the prow, her legs dangling off the edge of the boat through the railing and an RPG in her hands. She was itching to take the fight to these bandits. "You get all that, Revy?" He saw her lift one hand to her ear while resting the RPG against her shoulder with the other.

"Every word," her voice enthused in his ear. "It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. My Cutlasses are too cold right about now. What's say we light these assholes up?"

"As long as you remember we're here to pick up a hostage, you can do what you want," Dutch reminded her. "We can't exactly bring this woman back to Abrego with a hole in her head, now, can we?"

"Relax, Dutch," Revy droned. "As long as this bitch isn't a liability, I ain't got a problem with her." That wasn't particularly reassuring. Then again, Dutch was hardly surprised. Revy may have been volatile and unpredictable, but she was still a professional at the end of the day. No matter her differences with her crewmates, she would get the job done. Dutch just hoped this Alexis didn't get caught in the crossfire. Once Revy got into the swing of things, there was no stopping her.

"Benny, you seeing anything strange?"

"Nothing yet, Dutch," the blonde man said through the earpiece. "It looks like they haven't noticed us yet."

"Of course they haven't," Dutch said more to himself than anyone else. "These guys aren't exactly the most professional, are they? They're more interested in taking hostages for ransom and looting as much as they can from shipwrecks."

"Remind you of anyone we know?" The voice was Rock's. Dutch hadn't noticed him enter.

"That Rock?" Revy asked.

"Yeah."

"Tell him to go fuck himself."

"Anyway, this shouldn't take us too long," Dutch mused, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the end of it, depositing the ashes into an empty beer can. "If this job is as routine as Abrego made it sound, it should go off without a hitch."

"That's optimistic," Rock told him. "Don't jinx it, Dutch." The man laughed.

"Yeah, I'm starting to think that's nothing more than a pipe dream at this rate. Still, we've had it tougher than this. You remember the day after we picked you up?"

"Still trying to forget it."

"If it wasn't for you, we probably wouldn't have made it out of that situation. Your quick thinking really saved our asses, Rock." The Japanese man looked almost humbled to receive such praise, especially from Dutch. It wasn't often Lagoon's leader offered up unconditional appraisal.

"You probably would have figured it out," he said evasively. Dutch considered that, but he didn't appear like he was going to retract the compliment, either.

"Maybe. Still, my optimism makes a bit more sense now, I bet. We've all got our own skills. Yours happens to be pulling victory out of your ass at the right moment." Dutch clutched the side of his head as the earpiece began emitting static. One of the others must have tried to switch their own on too quickly. Once the noise subsided, Benny came on the other end.

"Uh, Dutch, we've got a bit of a situation."

"Shit. Alright, lay it on me."

"Well, it looks like a couple of smaller vessels have split off from that cruise ship," Benny explained. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say a lookout spotted us approaching." Dutch almost started laughing at the idea that he had underestimated these pirates after all. For a moment, it looked like they may well be able to make their way to the ship without being seen and then send Revy aboard to take them out. Now, however, they would have to fight their way through several smaller boats chock-full of enemies.

"Not so helpless after all," Dutch breathed. "Revy, you see them yet?"

"I got eyes on them," she confirmed, coming to her feet on the prow and loading the RPG. She rested the weight of the weapon on her right shoulder and pointed it out to sea at something Dutch could not spot from his point of view. "There's gotta be six boats at least. Oh, this is gonna be a bloodbath!" Without warning, she let off a rocket from her weapon. They all heard that resounding explosion shortly after. The rocket had hit its mark, then.

"That definitely spooked them," Benny told them. "The other boats are spreading out. Looks like they're going to try and converge on us from the sides."

"They can certainly try," Dutch said confidently. "Revy, you want to give these fuckers hell?" Rock could almost feel her excitement through the glass as she hung the RPG from the railing by its strap and took her Cutlasses in her hands.

"I thought you'd never ask, Dutchy." And she was off. As soon as the boats came close, Revy legged it across the front of the Lagoon and jumped across the gap, landing on the front of the first enemy vessel. The driver looked up suddenly, startled. His fear did not last long, replaced my cold, unreactive lifelessness as Revy gunned him down. There were three other men on this particular boat. They all opened fire, but Revy was too fast for them. She launched herself into the air with a swift motion of her legs, landing behind the bewildered pirates. "You guys must be the worst shots I've ever seen!" she mocked them. They all turned around, clearly surprised by the fact that she was now behind them after losing sight of her. "But, hey, that's not really a problem anymore, is it?" She let off three precise shots. Then, it was onto the next boat. The men aboard were all dead before they even realised Revy had come aboard.

"That's two down," Benny said. "Four more to go."

"Thanks for the math lesson, Benny!" Revy roared over the sound of gunfire as she leapt to the third vessel. So far, the pirates weren't putting up much of a fight. Dutch hadn't expected them to, but if the others were as uncoordinated and easily spooked as these, this job genuinely would go easier than expected. As Revy finished off the last few pirates on the third boat, the fourth pulled up alongside it. One of the men aboard crawled onto the M242 Bushmaster chain gun mounted on the bow and pointed it right at the gunslinger. She immediately ducked down behind the stern. The shots from the weapons tore through the other vessel like paper and Revy was forced to take evasive manoeuvres. All she needed was a clear line of sight and she could terminate the shooter. However, his attacks, accompanied by those of the other pirates, were making that increasingly difficult.

Left with no other option, Revy holstered her Cutlasses and dove straight into the ocean. The boat with the chain gun had been moving, causing the shooter to lose sight of Revy. She could feel the sting of the saltwater against her eyes, but she was determined to press on. There was still work to be done. The hull of the Lagoon was in the distance. The boat itself was still moving, but it had slowed to cruising speed. Dutch probably decided to make it easier for Revy to climb aboard once more before resuming the onslaught. She inwardly berated him for that. She wouldn't be heading for the Lagoon, she only had eyes for the remaining pirates.

The weight of her boots and guns made it difficult to propel herself through the water at any significant speed, but Revy was strong and athletic. In her condition, those were trivial worries. She made her way over to the left, away from Dutch. She could spot one of the smaller pirate vessels coming back towards her to make another pass. Those aboard would be scanning the surface of the ocean for their target. That was when she would strike. The other vessels seemed to be surrounding the Lagoon, but none of them had opened fire yet. Considering Revy was the one they needed to worry about, that was understandable. The pirate boat was almost upon Revy, now. The second it came within five feet of her, her Cutlasses broke the surface of the water and gunned down everyone aboard. After that, she grabbed the stepladder and climbed aboard. There was no question what she was going to do next. She went straight for the chain gun, pointing it at the remaining vessels and opening fire. They were decimated in seconds.

"You fucking amateurs!" Revy roared derisively. "I was just getting warmed up." A squelching sound reached her ears once she had finished speaking. She turned in the uncomfortable seat of the chain gun to see the shooter, the one who had forced her into the water, clutching a gunshot in his stomach, the wound she had given him. There was blood oozing from both the wound and his mouth. Revy hopped down from the mounted weapon and looked on with a mix of curiosity and disgust before raising one Cutlass and pointing it at the man's head. "How fucking pathetic." With that, she ended his suffering and holstered her gun once more. Dutch pulled the Lagoon up beside the pirate boat, then. Revy hopped across the gap onto the deck. The others emerged shortly.

"Revy! Are you alright?!" Rock's panicked voice yelped. Revy rested one arm on his shoulder and chuckled to herself.

"I'm fine, Rock. Just went for a swim, that's all." Indeed, her clothes were now stuck to her tightly, the black fabric of her top dripping as they spoke. Rock looked her up and down curiously. He instantly looked away once he realised his eyes had been lingering too long.

"I wish you hadn't," Dutch told her in a tone more befitting of a father telling off his daughter. "Your earpiece is damaged beyond repair. Those things don't grow on trees, you know."

"You've got spares, haven't you?" Revy asked him rudely.

"That's not the point, Revy."

"Jeez. You're a hell of a buzzkill, Dutch." He did not respond. He decided not to get bogged down in petty argument. Besides, their work was not over. It seemed doubtful the pirates would send out more fighters to dispatch Lagoon Company, in Dutch's mind. But, because of that, they would be more prepared to defend themselves aboard the ship. Speaking of which, Dutch angled his neck to get a look at the seafaring vessel not far away. They were very close, now. Once they pulled up beside it, Revy would make her way inside and wipe out any pirates within. Rock just hoped this Alexis would have the good sense to come quietly, despite Revy's abrasive attitude. If she didn't, this job would be taking a very undesirable turn.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Uncle Sam's Bastard Child

Lagoon Company met below deck to discuss the plan once they pulled up beside the cruise ship. Benny had been keeping an eye out for any activity during the last ten minutes. There had been nothing out of the ordinary. As well as that, Dutch and Revy had safely come to the conclusion that the pirates had gone on the defence aboard their ship, waiting for Lagoon to arrive. They would not be sending out any more boats. For that reason, they saw no reason to be overcautious here. Benny would join them during the briefing.

"Alright," Dutch began as they all gathered around the table. "They've ceased their attacks for now, but that won't last forever. Once they realise we've stopped moving, they'll probably send a few scouts to investigate. I don't know how many more boats they have to spare before they run out, but I'd rather get this done before they have the opportunity to retaliate. So let's make this quick. Revy, we need you ready for action." Lagoon's gunslinger squeezed the last of the seawater out of her ponytail onto the floor. Dutch did not look too pleased, but clearly he was not prepared to waste time giving out to her.

"I'm always ready, Dutch," she told him with a smile. "You just point me in the right direction and I'll get the job done."

"Alright, then. Once we go back up top, I'm going to take the Lagoon around to the other side of that ship. Right now, those assholes are hiding in wait. You said you didn't spot any of them through the binoculars?"

"Yeah," Revy told him. "If I had to guess, I'd say they're all inside waiting to have their asses handed to them. They must know I'll be coming aboard."

"That gives us an advantage," Dutch told them all. "If we can get moving before any of them come back out to have a look, they won't notice us sneak around to the other side. From there, Revy will make her way onto the ship."

"It's not uncommon for old military vessels to be reinvented as cruise ships," Benny chimed in. "That bad boy these pirates got their hands on is one such example. On the outside, it looks squeaky clean. Some of the interiors on the top floor will look better than some hotels. But once you get inside, I'm betting it'll start looking familiar to you, Revy."

"It used to be a naval ship," Dutch explained. "Once you get inside, you'll be able to navigate it without any trouble. I don't know where they'll be keeping this hostage exactly, but if they're smart she'll be in one of the cabins near the back, behind a bulkhead door. That way, you'd have to fight your way through every last one of them to get to her."

"And if they're not smart?" asked Rock. "If they've overlooked all of this?"

"Well, then this'll be a piece of cake," Dutch told him. "They'll have her in the command centre or on the bridge. Either way, Revy comes out of there with Alexis alive and well. And we go home and get paid. How does that sound?"

"Sounds fucking great, Dutch," Revy told him enthusiastically. "My day doesn't get much better than gunning down assholes and taking in a few grand."

"Well, alright, then. Let's get to work, everyone. I want to get this over with before the evening." They all headed back to their stations, then. Revy went outside with a grapple hook at the end of a long, sturdy rope as Dutch brought the Lagoon around to the other side of the ship slowly. He didn't want any of these pirates to hear the engine. Once he came to a stop, Revy fished the spare earpiece Dutch had graciously given her out of her pocket and attached it to her left ear.

"Alright, you know the drill," Dutch's voice came. "In and out, by the book. Once you find Alexis, I want you to get out of there as fast as you can."

"I got it, Dutch," she snapped, a clear tone of annoyance in her voice.

"Revy," he said softly. "You know why I'm being persistent here, right? I don't want you staying on that ship any longer than you have to just because you want to make sure there are no survivors." She did not answer him. After a few seconds of silence passed, he spoke once more. "These lowlifes aren't our problem. Once we have the package, our work is done. It's just a matter of getting her back to Abrego." Again, Revy did not reply, at least not right away. Instead, she twirled the grappling hook around her a few times before launching it upwards. It caught the railing of the ship with a soft clink.

"I hear ya, Dutch," Revy finally answered her boss. "Loud and clear." Without another word, she shut off the earpiece and made her way aboard the enemy vessel. Like they had suspected, there was nobody in sight. They were all inside. It was like Benny had described. Any architecture of military design had been stripped away and replaced with very clear tourist-friendly, aesthetically pleasing designs instead. But Revy knew that once she made her way deeper into the interior, that would all change. The ship would revert to its original state, the drab grey corridors and weathered bulkhead doors indicative of a different time in the vessel's life.

She wasted no time, readying her weapons and moving towards the first door. She kicked it inward with one boot heel, splintering the wooden doorframe that had obviously been implemented around the same time the ship had been converted into a cruise liner. The men inside had been speaking, probably discussing how to proceed. Revy was glad to cut those plans short, sending them to their deaths without any hesitation. And so the slaughter began. There must have been thirty men aboard, if not more. Over half of those were found by Revy and killed without mercy or remorse. As she suspected, the level she had been on was clearly designed to receive guests or at the very least to host gatherings of some sort. The walls had all been painted, tables and chairs were set up as though for meals and in one of the rooms, a disco ball hung from the ceiling, though it had seemingly been shot a few times since it had originally been hung. However, when Revy descended to the level just below, a strange mix of nostalgia and sorrow filled her from top to bottom. It looked like a real warship down here. As if to reiterate that, the pirates were hiding in the cabins along both sides of the corridor. At the very end was where this hostage would be. Revy just had to make her way there. That would not be difficult. The doors to all but three cabins were wide open, after all. The pirates expected her to rush to the end of the corridor so they could gun her down from their hiding spots. That was amusing.

Rather than simply rush to the nearest cabin and open fire, she angled her foot behind and empty bottle on the floor and sent it into the air with one swift motion. It smashed against the wall of the closest cabin. The man inside let off a single shot out of panic. That was Revy's window. She appeared in the doorway and lit him up. After that, it was chaos. The other pirates were not content to remain in their spots any longer. Sensing this, Revy headed inside and positioned herself like her most recent victim had been, with her back to the wall and her guns pointed forward. Now, the pirates came to her. That was a big mistake. One by one, they tried to get her in their line of sight only to be gunned down.

"This is too fucking easy!" Revy shouted at them mockingly. "You guys might as well just shoot yourselves and save me the trouble." They did not stop their attacks. Either they were content to see their futile plan through to the end, or they were genuinely incredibly unintelligent to the point that they did not realise they were going to their doom. Regardless, Revy did not complain. It did not take long for the remaining pirates to be eliminated. Revy let off one more shot. It tore through the abdomen of the last pirate. He was sent backwards, smacking into the wall behind him and crumbling to his knees, dead. There was no more sound, now, at least not from any of the attackers. Revy reloaded, but she kept her guns at the ready. There might still have been more enemies aboard, hiding or biding their time until she left. They would not get the chance to take her by surprise.

She made her way down the length of the corridor slowly. The closer she got to the end cabin, the clearer it became that there were voices coming from within. There were definitely others aboard, then. The bulkhead door was closed, but it had not been locked. It would open easily. With one Cutlass at the ready, Revy prepared to reach forward and open the door. However, before she could do so, it flung open seemingly by itself. Shortly after, a body crashed to the ground. It was one of the pirates, and his face was covered in blood. Revy pointed her Cutlasses towards the interior of the cabin instinctually. She expected to find more pirates. Perhaps there had been a misunderstanding of some sort and infighting had ensued. But no such sight met the gunslinger's eyes. Instead, a woman stood within. She was cracking her knuckles when she noticed Revy. A smile appeared on her face, replacing the irritated scowl that had been there.

"Ho-lee _shit!_ About time you came along, I've been waiting around for you all fucking day! Did the big man send you?" Her voice was sort of scratchy and abrasive, but almost in a feminine way, not unlike Revy's. She wore black United States military boots and khaki army trousers. Her torso was covered only by a dirty yellow shirt, the ends of which had been torn off to resemble a crop top. It hung open, revealing a simple black bra beneath and fingerless gloves with steel-plated knuckles covered her hands. Her skin was very tanned and her blonde hair had been tied into pigtails that hung over her shoulders.

"Who the fuck are you?!" asked Revy, still pointing both Cutlasses at the mystery woman. She frowned before producing a cigarette from her back pocket and lighting it with a grimy, weathered flip-lighter.

"You're shitting me, right, hon? I'm Alexis. Don't tell me he didn't even give you my name."

"You're Alexis?" Revy asked, incredulous. "Gimme a break. Abrego didn't mention nothing about you being some trigger-happy skank."

"Abrego?" Alexis asked. She had a look of what might have been confusion that faded almost instantaneously. "Hell, you didn't expect him to give you _all_ the details, did you? I'm just his delivery girl, after all." Revy noticed that Alexis had two side by side holsters attached to her belt at the back, two holsters currently occupied by Browning Hi Powers. They were both silver in colour, but appeared to have inscriptions of sorts. Revy could not make them out. The man that Alexis had apparently just punched out through a doorway moaned for a second before the American took one of the Brownings in her hand and shot him dead.

"Hey, princess, you want to lower your guns?" she said to Revy, whose Cutlasses were still raised. "You were hired to rescue me, right? We're just wasting fucking time, now. Oh, and call me Lexi, by the way. I fucking hate my full name." Revy began to grit her teeth when she heard static in her ear. She holstered one of her weapons and raised her hand to the earpiece.

"What is it, Dutch?"

"Revy, we've got a situation. Are you about done in there? Another boat of those pirates appeared and they're making their way aboard. You better haul ass."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Four Hands, Two Tempers

"You sure you're gonna be able to handle this, bitch?" Revy's voice cut through the air like a knife. Lexi had her Brownings at the ready, her back to the wall across from Revy. Between them, the corridor opened up and lead back outside. The pirates making their way inside would not see the two women, not until the shots began.

"This ain't my first rodeo, Annie Oakley," Lexi shot back. "You never know, you might learn a thing or two if you pay attention."

"If you make it out of this okay, you're gonna fucking pay for that." They remained silent for the next few moments as the pirates entered the floor. They moved quietly as though to try and catch the girls by surprise. That was doomed to fail from the beginning. As soon as they were close enough, Revy would not hesitate to gun them down, especially if it meant getting the first shot in before Lexi. One of the men must have knocked something over with his foot judging by the commotion that followed. His companions must have turned to see what the source of the noise was. That was the best opportunity Revy was going to get. She and Lexi both sprung from behind cover, their guns at the ready. It was unclear who let off the first shot, but the scene that followed was complete carnage. Neither of them stopped shooting until their clips were completely empty and the pirates were all dead. They were clearly trying to outdo one another, but Revy's expression and demeanour were obviously a lot more aggressive. Lexi, on the other hand, was smiling openly. She was enjoying this, and she knew well that she was getting under the gunslinger's skin.

"Well, not just a Twinkie in booty shorts after all," Lexi hissed.

"The fuck did you say?!" Revy growled, pointing one of her Cutlasses at the American. Lexi reciprocated.

"Easy does it," she said calmly. "No need to get your panties in a twist. I was just pushing your buttons." Revy narrowed her eyes. The inscription on the Brownings was small, but clearly visible at this angle. A bald eagle surrounded by a circle of stars. Not only that, but Revy knew that smell that filled her nostrils all too well, that stench of shit and decay. A quick memory flashed before her eyes, a brief vision of white so fast it was soon forgotten.

"I know what you are," Revy told Lexi, her voice dripping with sinister intent. "Abrego had us believing you were just some dumb delivery girl. Taking in his merchandise at the docks, huh? Fuck me. He never told us what you really were, did he? He never said you were a fucking Desert Queen."

"Revy!" Dutch's voice came in her ear. "What's taking so long?" Revy's Cutlass did not waver, though she had to admit, they were running out of time. They needed to move.

"When we get back to Roanapur, we can braid each other's hair for all I care," Lexi told her, her voice taking on a far less jovial tone than before. She had become serious all of a sudden. "But right now, we need to get a move on. Got it?" Revy did not lower her gun. Instead, she just stared at the woman before her, the woman she knew was keeping secrets from them. On that note, it was possible even Abrego did not know her true nature. Considering she was loaned to him by someone else, that seemed very likely. That raised the question of who this mystery associate was that apparently gave Lexi her orders when she wasn't working part-time for the cartel. Revy finally relented and holstered her weapons. Lexi did the same.

"You better hope Abrego follows through with his payment when we get back. Because if he doesn't, I'll fucking kill you. You fucking dumb bitch." She raised one hand to her earpiece. "Dutch, I've got the package. We're on our way out."

"About time," Dutch groaned. The two women quickly exited the ship's interior and made their way aboard the Black Lagoon, prompting Dutch to start the engine and take off towards Roanapur. They made their way inside shortly. "You sure took your time in there, Revy."

"I got the job done, didn't I?" she snapped. "Anyway, this is her. The delivery girl Abrego was looking for."

"Nice to meet you," Dutch told her abruptly. "You'll have to forgive me but we don't really have time for formal introductions. I assume those pirates will be sending reinforcements any second now. I want get the hell out of dodge before that happens."

"Smart," Lexi told him, producing a cigarette and lighting it. "You guys seem like you're on the up and up. Abrego must've spared no expense, huh?"

"You could say that," Dutch told her.

"Bullshit," Revy said, annoyed. "Thirty grand ain't exactly reaching too deep into the cartel's pockets. We ought to be getting another ten for this bitch. She's worth at least that much more."

"I'm flattered you'd put such value on my perfect little ass," Lexi told her. She noticed Rock, then, standing over by Dutch. He hadn't said anything yet, but he was paying attention to every word. "This must be your boyfriend, Twinkie. You wanna show me where I can put my feet up, handsome?" Revy made a noise like a rabid dog and put her hands on her hips.

"Uh, well…" Rock mumbled nervously.

"Rock, take her down to the cargo hold," Dutch interjected, sensing the tension. "She can wait there while we head back. Journey is going to take thirty minutes or so anyway." Rock did as he was told. When he reached the hold, he dragged the door open with a grunt and peered inside. There were boxes, ammo crates and dismantled weapons strewn around the room. There wouldn't be much room for Lexi to relax.

"Sorry about the mess," Rock apologised politely. "We haven't had the chance to clear it out yet."

"That's alright," Lexi told him, brushing passed him and grabbing a foldable chair from against the wall. She took her seat and propped her feet up on the only surface not covered in this or that. "Yep. This'll do nicely. I like this boat. It reminds me of a few jobs I've pulled off. You guys are really legit, huh?"

"I guess so," Rock answered, not really sure what to say.

"This little beauty of yours got a name?"

"Huh?"

"The boat," Lexi explained. "She have a name?"

"Oh. It's called the Black Lagoon."

"Is that so?" Lexi asked, taking the cigarette from her mouth and holding it between the index and middle fingers of her left hand. "I should've guessed. You four are Lagoon Company, then. Oh yeah, I know all about you guys. And the big dude upstairs called you Rock…I take it that's not your real name?" She knew well Rock was not his real name, she didn't need the clarification. But she was clearly probing him for some reason. Something about her made Rock uneasy. He didn't believe she bore Lagoon any harm, necessarily. Considering they were here to rescue her, that wouldn't have made sense. But she gave off a certain air. There was more to her than met the eye. And if her manner and tone of voice suggested anything, she knew more about Rock than she was letting on. Perhaps he had met her before, but he did not recall her face.

"My name is Rock," he told her defiantly. "I…don't have any other name. You can just call me Rock." Lexi studied him for a minute before smirking.

"Well, alright, Rock. Say no more." He stood in the doorway awkwardly as the ashes from the end of her cigarette floated softly down towards the ground. "You want a smoke?"

"No, I should get back up top," he told her. "I'll let you know when we get back to the city."

"Appreciate it." With that, he left her and headed to the Lagoon's common area. Revy was silently stewing on her bed, her hands behind her head and a cigarette in her mouth.

"So, did you show our new guest where she can rest her weary fucking head?" Revy asked. She made no attempt to hide how much she clearly did not like Lexi.

"She's down in the cargo hold right now," Rock told her. "I take it you don't like her?"

"I hate her," Revy grumbled. "She's a fucking whore. She sure can shoot, though. I'll give her that."

"Something doesn't add up," Rock mused, scratching his chin.

"Why do you say that?" Revy's question was an attempt to coax Rock's thoughts out of him. She knew what didn't add up, she had learned it aboard the ship. She just wanted to hear Rock work his way there.

"Abrego said she was taking in his deliveries for him," Rock began. "He told Dutch she'd been loaned to him from someone else. I expected her to be…well…"

"Like you?" Revy suggested. Rock looked a tad embarrassed by that notion.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But she's not. It's like the employee doesn't fit the job description. She's more like you or Dutch."

"Tell me what you're thinking, Rocky Boy."

"Someone gave her to Abrego, someone based in the city. She's American, so that effectively rules out Hotel Moscow and most of the cartels. Hm…I would normally eliminate Chang, too, but his forces have had outsiders mingled in during the last year and a half. And we know he's no stranger to employing freelancers to do his dirty work."

"She's no freelance bounty hunter, Rock," Revy told him. "I can tell you that for a fact. I could smell her on that ship. She was a goddamn soldier. I don't know what fucking hole she crawled out of, but it's there, clear as day. She was a servant of Uncle Sam himself." That certainly brought a few ideas to Rock's mind, one of which stuck with him. He would need to think about this a bit more before bringing it to Dutch's attention. Then again, once this job was over, Lagoon's leader would not want anything to do with Lexi.

Dutch docked the boat once they arrived back in the city. He must have called ahead and informed Abrego that the job was done, considering the cartel were waiting for them when they emerged. Lexi was close behind Lagoon as they walked forward and came to a stop before Abrego and his men.

"I'm impressed, Dutch," the Colombian praised them. "I'm glad you could get the job done so quickly. I have your payment right here." Indeed, he held a duffle bag in one hand. Lexi, however, did not move. Instead, she leaned one arm on Dutch's shoulder and whistled at the cartel.

"Come on, Abrego," she said disapprovingly. "You have any idea the trouble these guys had to go through on your account? I heard you were paying thirty grand for me."

"Of course, thirty is plenty," Rock said hastily, clearly not wanting to upset Abrego. He was probably just eager to get home and rest. Revy smacked him on the back of the head.

"You fucking jackass!" she spat. "Why'd you have to go and say that?!"

"We agreed on thirty, Dutch," Abrego reminded the big man. The other cartel members weren't so subtle in placing their hands on their guns.

"That's fine by me," Dutch said. "I'm not the one busting your balls over this, Abrego." Indeed, Lexi seemed intent on squeezing more money out of the cartel. For what reason was a mystery.

"You ought to throw another ten on there," Lexi said blithely.

"You watch your mouth, puta," Abrego snapped at her.

"Hey, wakey-wakey, Coffee Bean," Lexi retorted, once more dropping her happy-go-lucky attitude and taking a serious, no-nonsense tone. "You have any idea how many of those assholes we had to fight through just to make it back here? You should have seen the bullets we used just to get back to the Lagoon. Come on, you were going to be paying me soon, anyway. You might as well give these guys a little bonus." Abrego gritted his teeth. He was clearly not happy about this. Nevertheless, he seemed to concede.

"You need to remember your fucking place," he growled as Lexi made her way over to him. She came to a stop beside him and leaned over, her face inches from his own.

"Oh, don't be so mad," she told him childishly. "It's only fair, after all." With that, she walked passed the cartel and swung open the door of one of their cars. "Thanks for the pickup, Lagoon. I'll be sure to repay the favour one day." She got into the car, then, shutting the door behind her. Abrego threw the duffle down beside Dutch. Revy, however, was the one to grab it and sling it over her shoulder.

"Consider yourselves lucky, Dutch," the Colombian muttered angrily. "If I didn't respect her, that's all you'd be getting paid for this. You'll get your 'bonus' in the next few days. Fucking vultures."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Dizzy Maniac

The images he saw were memories he had long buried deep within himself, flashes of others who were now dead. Rock had long thought the bodies left in his wake would not bother him anymore but that was an idealistic hope, one that proved false. As he looked on at the other people in the market, he watched them going about their business from his seat. The bowl of noodles sat in front of him. He hadn't touched it, nor was he feeling particularly hungry. He was more concerned with the people around him. They did not pay him any mind, but his eyes followed their every movement. There was nothing of note about them at first, but after a while, they all shared the same thing in common. In his mind, a red cross appeared on all their faces. It wasn't that they would die in this city, it was that they had already done so long ago. Some were like Revy, accepting their fates and living without the fear of being killed, something she claimed would set you free. Others pressed on to survive through the worst, though in doing so unwillingly accepted their own doom. They had resigned themselves to living in this city, to continuing on as one of the walking dead.

As he watched them all, multiple faces flashed before Rock's eyes, faces he was not sure he wished to remember. Gretel, the young Romanian girl with a hole in her head; Yukio Washimine, the heir to the Yakuza leadership in Tokyo; Gregor, the member of Godswrath whose death had been ordered by Rock personally when he succumbed to his inner darkness completely; Hunter Woods, the man who almost ended Hotel Moscow and the Triad, the man Rock tricked into thinking he was escaping the city, only to be lead to his death. Rock's conscience was heavy indeed, weighed down by the souls of those who had been killed because of him.

The first two had been out of his control, but the butterfly effect that rippled from his actions served to sever their ties to the world of the living. However small his part in their deaths, he still carried that weight every day. The last two, however, were dead because of Rock's direct interference in Roanapur's affairs. He was responsible for the death of a soldier, a good man intent on fixing the city's problems. During that time, he had been in a very dark place. The darkness inside him had fully taken root until his mind was no longer his own and his actions were fuelled by misplaced intent to aid the corruption of the city. But now, after successfully wrestling with that side of himself and returning to his old self-for the most part-he was sickened by the things he had done. In retrospect, he had blood on his hands. He hadn't pulled the trigger, but Gregor and Hunter had been killed by him, however indirectly.

Rock clutched the front of his head and leaned his elbows on the table in front of him. He was sweating profusely. Yukio Washimine told him once that he was in the twilight, that he still hadn't committed either way to the light or the dark, the bright, warm day, or the cold, dark night. But when he decided a soldier's life needed to end because he cared more about protecting the rotten cesspool of a city he called home than saving people, he made that commitment. He began to wonder if it was too late for him, if he had gone passed the point of no return. Yukio did the same thing. She accepted what was expected of her. She rose to the challenge and tried to lead her clan to glory, but Rock had seen through her in the end. Whatever she told herself, the real reason she had done those things was to be with her bodyguard. Ginji, the manslayer, was a Yakuza assassin. And Yukio had been in love with him, that much could be seen by a blind man.

She could have run away with him. She intended to, at one point. But that never came to pass. Her actions led to her bodyguard's death. Her own suicide followed. She was unable to go on without him. But Rock hadn't let the darkness swallow him because he was following anyone into the unknown, because he intended to run away with some mistress who lived in this world. He had done those things because that side of him _liked_ it. Deep down, he enjoyed the game, he revelled in gambling with lives. But the real Rock, the one who had come back from the brink, the one who now sat in the market with a sickness in his stomach that would not pass, hated who he had become in this city. He could feel his sins dragging him down every day like chains linked to his body. He pushed the bowl of noodles away from him. He wouldn't be touching his food today.

"Goddammit," he whispered, clutching the sides of his head more and more until his nails started to break the skin. The longer he sat there, the more vivid the images became. He saw bodies, blood, tears, death. He saw himself standing on a pile of corpses, wearing a black trench coat and laughing. He saw Revy ready to shoot him on numerous occasions. "GODDAMMIT!" he screamed, slamming his fists down on the table and knocking over the bowl. Some of the others in the market turned to see the source of the noise. Most of them shuffled off to the next street. "No matter what I do, it's still not good enough. I try to help people, and I fail. I try to play the game, and I fail! Why do I have to SUFFER LIKE THIS?!" He grabbed the bowl from the table and threw it at the wall. It smashed into pieces. Anyone who had been close enough to notice his outburst immediately left the area.

He wasn't sure who he was blaming, exactly. After all, his predicament was his own fault. His anger and frustration were very undirected. He supposed he was more disappointed in himself than anything. His soul was becoming weary. He was sick and tired of witnessing the worst this world had to offer him, again and again. The thoughts of Yukio Washimine's words hurt the most. In some strange way, he felt like he had let her down even more than before. In the end, whatever budding rapport he had with her was completely destroyed, due in no small part to her insistence that they were enemies and nothing more. But other than that, Rock knew one thing for certain. He knew that if Yukio had survived, perhaps if she had seen the error of her ways and reformed, she would hate what Rock had become. She would be disgusted by the things he had done. And he hated himself for that.

 _I've heard it said that people are like dice. And like dice, we can throw ourselves in any direction._

Had the die already been cast? Was it too late for Rock, after all this time? Was his soul so decayed that there was no redemption, no atonement for his sins?

After a few moments, Rock took a seat once more. He reached into his pocket and produced his wallet, opening it and fishing out a small picture. It was her, the Japanese girl. Yukio. Towards the end of Balalaika's negotiations with the Washimine Clan, things had taken a sour turn and Hotel Moscow were at war with the Yakuza. Rock made one last bid to save Yukio, to give her one more chance to come back from the night and have a peaceful existence. But there was no way to achieve a desirable resolution. She was dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Rock didn't believe in happy endings. He had been living in this city long enough to have that cold, hard fact burned into his mind. But that didn't change the fact that his sins were suffocating him now. Then again, that was the old Rock, the real one who had managed to climb out of the abyss, who felt that way. He had a conscience, a set of morals and principles. The other Rock, the one who spoke to him sometimes on the darkest of nights, let nothing get through his exterior. Perhaps it was that Rock who should be sitting here right now. It would make dealing with these memories so much simpler. He shoved the wallet back into his pocket.

"Oh, look who it is!" Rock did not register the voice right away. When he did, the woman who had spoken was already sitting across from him, her feet propped up on the table and a cigarette in her hand. It was Lexi, the American they had rescued from the pirates only two days ago. "The market is usually crowded. What happened, is the circus in town or something?"

"Something like that," Rock answered meekly. Lexi's smile disappeared and she leaned forward slightly.

"You alright, Rock? You look like you've seen a ghost." He saw many ghosts, day and night, the ghosts of those whose deaths he held himself responsible for.

"Let me ask you something," he began, reaching one arm over to her and snatching the cigarette from her hand, stuffing it into his own mouth. She looked surprised by that before giving him a smirk. "Do you think even the worst person can find atonement?" Lexi squinted at him. She did not think less of him for asking that question, nor did she see fit to berate him. That was a welcome change from how Revy would normally react.

"What do you mean?"

"No matter what we do, we all have black marks in our records. That comes as part of the package deal of living in this city. But is there a road to redemption? Can even the lowest of the low climb back up to the light? Or are we doomed to rot the second we slip even a little bit?" Rock was fully expecting her to be left speechless, to show surprise and confusion by his rambling. But that was not the case. When he looked up from the table, she was deep in thought herself. Rock's words resonated with something inside her. She knew _exactly_ what he was getting at. That scared him a little, enough to snap him out of it. Then, it was Lexi's turn to speak.

"Sins, huh?" she asked quietly. "Yeah, we all got 'em. There aren't a whole lot of people left who haven't done some pretty fucked up things to stay alive. But we've all got our reasons. You think life is as simple as good and evil, Rock? Those are ideas, just empty words to give people a sense of ideals." Lexi closed her eyes for a moment. She saw the baseball bat smashing against her prepubescent face, the bedroll in the alley she slept in, the men who beat her for what they described as 'unsatisfactory work.' It all disappeared once her eyes opened again. "I don't believe in sins. Not the way the religious nuts do, anyway. They'll preach peace and love and try to make you believe in the grace of a God Almighty. But where's God when you've hit rock bottom and all you need to climb back to your feet is a helping hand? Sins are just things you've done in the face of danger to keep yourself breathing. And if that's wrong…well, there ain't a whole lot that's right, is there?" As she finished speaking, Rock looked at her wide-eyed. He had not expected any of that from her. Then again, he had no idea the things she had been through. There was no telling what was going on in her head. She rose from the seat and offered Rock one more smirk before heading in the other direction. "Cheer up, Rock. The world is full of possibilities. All you have to do is seize the day."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Deliver Us From Evil

 _Even though I shot you, you're still alive. You made it. It's finally over, Roberta. I killed him, he's dead. The sin is mine. There are no winners here, our sins are all that are left. But I promise I will help you bear that terrible burden. I will support you as we live out our lives together, in peace._

 _Yes, Young Master._

 _You were supposed to stay here with your family. After everything, you could finally have a life._

 _You are too concerned for me._

Garcia's eyes peeled open smoothly as the moonlight seeped in through the window. He could still hear his maid's words in his mind, those she had spoken to him and others said to a different figure in her life. Garcia could feel the faint sting of envy in his chest before he sat up in his bed. He suddenly became aware that it was a commotion outside his room that had woken him. He took a few seconds to gather his faculties. He was in the Sankanpalace, a very fancy hotel in Roanapur. Fabiola and Pius remained with him. One of them must have been moving around outside his room.

"Fabiola?" he groaned hoarsely, rubbing his eyes. The noise stopped and his door creaked open slowly.

"I apologise, Master Garcia," the priest said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's alright," Garcia told him, almost fully awake now. "What were you doing out there? It's late." Pius's head was visible as he spoke, but his body was still hidden behind the door. Deciding not to lie to the boy, he came into the room fully. He had a duffle bag around his shoulder, the barrel of a gun poking out from the end of it. Garcia looked first at the bag, then at Pius.

"Forgive me, Master Garcia," the priest said solemnly. "I've only just returned. I learned the location of some of the cartel's runaways. I don't know if they still serve Hawke, but I can't take that chance. They pose a threat to your family." Garcia's expression was sorrowful. He did not approve of killing, nor did he like it when those close to him took part in it. But he had shown restraint for the Wolf before, and now for the priest. The long, winding road the head of the Lovelace family was walking seemed to be dotted with ferocious killers who doubled as trusted friends. Garcia would rather it be any other way, but he had faith in these murderers he, at one time, would never have associated himself with. That was due in no small part to Roberta. She had killed many during her time. If Garcia could find the strength and resolve to forgive her, to show her love and hope she would get better, perhaps the same thing would happen with these others one day. Perhaps they would find the road to redemption, a road that ended with them finally laying down their weapons. That may well have been idealistic, but Garcia would not let himself give up on them, not when they had helped his family so much in the past.

"What are you going to do?" he asked Pius after an extended silence.

"I'm going to hire Lagoon Company to take me to them," the priest answered. He knew how much the admission that he intended to kill these men pained Garcia, but he would not hold back. The boy wanted the truth, and Pius would oblige. "I'm going to make sure they never get the chance to hurt you or your maids."

"You're going to kill them, aren't you?" The question was not necessary. Garcia knew the priest's intention, of course. He was just sad this had to happen. He was no stranger to death. He had seen his fair share of it. But even now, after everything he had been through, he still hated this city and everything its residents did for power or money.

"I am," Pius said. "I'm sorry. We can't take any chances. They need to be killed." He lingered in the room for a moment before attempting to make his way out of the room. Garcia's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Pius," the boy called. "Wait."

"What is it?"

"What does the bible say about Purgatory?" Pius cringed.

"Excuse me, Master Garcia?"

"Purgatory. The plane between Heaven and Hell. What does the bible say about it?"

"'I will bear the indignation of the Lord because I have sinned against Him, until He pleads my cause and executes judgement for me'," Pius began. He knew the quote from memory. "'He will bring me forth to the light; I shall behold His deliverance.'" Garcia's expression did not change. Something was clearly bothering him. "Why do you ask?"

"This is the fate that awaits sinners after death," Garcia said. "Roberta, Fabiola, you, me. There is no Heaven for us, is there?"

"What sins have you committed, Master Garcia?" the priest asked. He did not receive a response. "Regardless, we have sinned. And we will pay for our sins when our time comes. But we will pay for them together, as we have sinned together."

"Maybe we already are paying for them," Garcia mused. "Roanapur is our Purgatory. Everyone here is a sinner. And we can't seem to stay away from this place."

(*)

The route the Lagoon took was an unfamiliar one. The river they were on was called the Khlong Prathun. It hadn't been that long of a journey from Roanapur, but it was still a bit out of the way, across the Gulf of Thailand. It was close to the border of Cambodia. The river itself was not particularly lengthy, especially considering some journeys Lagoon Company had taken in the past, but it was winding. There never seemed to be a simple stretch of water, there was always a bend or a turn up ahead. That dragged the journey out a bit longer. The area around said river was very rural. Trees, underbrush and various flora and fauna littered the landscape. The only people out here were farmers and nomads, with a few undesirables fleeing from the authorities sprinkled in.

Pius had given Lagoon ten grand for this. That was plenty considering it was a simple, routine transportation job. They were to take Pius to the location, wait for his return, and bring him back to Roanapur. In all honesty, Dutch was more than happy to oblige considering he would not have to shoulder any of the risk. Then again, Revy would more than likely accompany the priest. When he mentioned he was hunting runaways from the cartel, she seemed pleased by the idea of gunning them down. If past experience was anything to go by, she would not be able to resist.

"You'll have to let me know where to drop you off," Dutch said to the priest. "You know where you're going?"

"I do," Pius answered him. "There's a small village near the river. That's where I was told they would be."

"So who gave you this info, anyway?" Revy asked. "I thought these guys were supposed to be hard to pin down."

"Not for me," Pius said smugly. "They bought weapons and equipment back in Roanapur. Normally there would be confidentiality for that sort of thing, but the right price loosened the lips of the right people. Their information pointed to the village." In reality, the village wasn't much more than five or six small huts gathered near a wooded area less than one kilometre from the riverbank. Years ago, settlers decided to make their home there away from the rest of civilisation. Whether any of them remained was uncertain. But if the cartel's renegades now resided there, it was unlikely anyone else did.

"Well, once we get there, try not to take too long," Dutch said firmly. "We've already been paid so we'll wait for you, but I'd rather get back to Roanapur before midday." When Pius called to the apartment, it had been just after three in the morning. They were reluctant to help him at such an hour, but he offered them the payment from the get go and insisted it was urgent. Dutch finally relented and readied the Lagoon for travel. In less than two hours, the sun would rise. Lagoon Company would not have too much patience after that point.

"I'll do my best," Pius assured them. "From what I was told, there aren't many of them out here. This shouldn't take long."

"Glad to hear it," Dutch told him. The rest of the journey should have taken around fifteen minutes at the pace they were going. The waters were shallow here. Were they at full speed, they would have arrived already. The Lagoon was stopped in its tracks, however, much sooner than expected. A tree had fallen into the river, effectively blocking them from continuing. The river had become narrower the further they went and in this particular spot, the single tree that had fallen extended all the way across to the other side. Dutch was forced to come to a complete halt. "How far away did you say this place was?" he asked. Pius looked out through the glass at the tree and sighed. It was a temporary setback, but one he could have done without. His targets might have been moving off soon, after all. There was no guarantee they weren't moving from hideout to hideout. The village could have been a temporary stop along the way.

"We're close," Pius told them. "Very close. We can probably walk the rest of the way."

"'We', huh?" Revy asked slyly.

"I could use the help," the priest said suggestively. "After all, you've gotten paid already. Feel free to tag along."

"I'll keep the Lagoon here until you get back," Dutch told them. The boat had been pulled in as close to the bank as possible without the hull scraping against the riverbed. "Try not to dawdle."

"Don't worry, Dutch," Revy assured him. "You know the drill. We'll be in and out like a flash." With that, they went outside and hopped across to the bank, making their way through the thicket of trees and bushes and emerging out onto a faint path. They could spot the village in the distance. It was between five and ten minutes' walk away. With no time to waste, Pius took his weapon in his hands, the weapon that had been around his shoulder up until this point. It was an Auto Assault-12, an automatic shotgun with a drum magazine that was capable of immense destruction in the right hands. They were close, now, close enough to spot several vehicles inside the village itself.

The huts had been arranged in a semicircle around a small yard where the cars had been parked. However, adjacent to them was a house. It was small, but its walls were concrete and it was obviously very old. It must have been an old farmhouse or remote cottage of some sort. As they made their way into the yard, they could not spot any of these cartel runaways. The huts and cars were all empty. They were inside, then. Pius motioned for Revy to stand back as he aimed the shotgun. One blast from it tore the wooden door from its hinges in a flurry of splinters and sawdust. That was the beginning of the fighting. After that, the men within pointed their weapons out the windows of the cottage in an attempt to kill the attackers. Revy answered with her Cutlasses. Every shot she fired hit its mark and the Colombians all fell.

"Quite the show you put on," Pius told the gunslinger. She smirked before crossing the threshold of the cottage. They needed to check if any of the men survived.

"That's a serious piece of hardware you got there," Revy jested. "And you didn't even get to use it. Oh, well, at least I put on a show for ya." The bodies of the men lay in pools of their own blood. They hadn't survived the onslaught, not one of them. Revy placed one foot on the body before her, nudging him and turning him onto his back. There was something in his hand. It was a walkie-talkie. They had called for backup. "Well, shit. That's all we fucking need." Pius followed her inside.

"What's wrong?"

"Looks like they called for help," Revy told him, holstering her guns. That seemed to confuse him. After all, he was prepared to fight to the bitter end, to gun down every last one of these men, even the reinforcements. "A shame we won't be here when they arrive."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on, Padre," Revy teased. "Who knows how long it'll be before these assholes show. I say we get out while we can and go back to Roanapur. Job's done, dumbass."

"These men pose a threat to Garcia Lovelace and his family," Pius informed her. "I'm not leaving until every last one of them lies dead." Revy yawned in his face and headed for the door.

"Great. Do whatever the fuck you want. I'm going back to the boat." Without warning, Pius grabbed the strap of Revy's holsters and pulled, throwing her backwards. She tumbled into a wall and fell to her knees before realising she was in a different room. "You fucking cocksucker!" As she scrambled to her feet and ran for the doorway, the door itself was swiftly shut and that clicking sound signalled that the priest had locked it. She was stuck in here.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Confessions

"Listen up, Padre," Revy began through gritted teeth. Her voice was deathly quiet and her tone suggested that what she was about to say next was not to be taken for granted. "You got the wrong end of the stick, here. You better open this fucking door right now, goddammit." When Pius threw her into the room, he had been gripping the strap of her holsters, tearing them from her body when she tumbled to the ground. He had her guns, now.

"I apologise for any inconvenience," he said through the door. "I didn't want to do that, but you left me no choice. We can't leave here without assuring Master Garcia's safety."

"You think I care about that little brat?!" Revy spat. "Or his fucking maids? I didn't come out here to put the little lord's mind at ease."

"Why did you come out here?" the priest asked her. She knew the answer to that, but as far as she was concerned, he had no business asking her for any justification. "You like to kill people, don't you? You enjoy this."

"Climb down off your fucking high horse," Revy told him. "You can't tell me seeing those assholes dead didn't give you a huge fucking hard-on. Face it, Padre, you and I are more alike than you might want to admit. But, hey, believe whatever you want. Now open this fucking door!" It did not budge. Revy did hear a sound from the other side, a sound that suggested Pius had taken a seat on the ground, leaning against the wooden door.

"We're not the same," his voice came, then. "The only thing we have in common is that we both kill people. But for very different reasons. We're sinners, but I'm not the one happy to go on living a lie."

"Give me a break. I don't know what you've been smoking, but I sure as shit ain't living a lie. I know what I am, better than you. So keep your opinions to your damn self." They were silent for the next few minutes. Revy, content to remain on her feet no longer, planted her back firmly against the door and slid down its length slowly until she sat on the ground. The other cartel runaways were coming. They would be here soon. When that time came, she would make her own way out of this room. If Pius hadn't returned her weapons by then, he would regret ever taking them from her.

"You must have a lot of blood on your hands to go on pretending you enjoy this," the priest's voice came then. "Or maybe you really are that screwed up in the head."

"Go fuck yourself," Revy snarled. "You don't know me. I could tell you things that would make you sick to the pit of your stomach, and that's just the beginning. You don't want to know the things I've seen, Padre. Trust me."

"You might be surprised. I am a priest, after all. Perhaps you'd like to offer me a confession."

"Hah! Nice try. I don't have shit to confess, least of all to you."

"Not your sins, then," Pius told her. She wasn't exactly sure where he was going with this, but something in his voice compelled her to listen. She was uncomfortable with where this line of conversation was inevitably leading. She could feel it, bubbling up inside her like acid. He was walking a fine line. "The sins of others you've met. Of those who've done you wrong. What do you say? Don't you want to bare all to God in one last bid to save your soul?" Revy did not even react to that, at least not how she normally would have. There was no point in lashing out or screaming at the priest. Besides, with the door between them and their faces hidden from one another, it felt almost too easy to 'bare all', as he put it so eloquently. She produced a cigarette and shoved it between her lips, reaching for her flip lighter shortly after. Its flame was small and insignificant as it singed the end of the smoke, but even it offered some warmth against the cold, encroaching darkness that seemed to surround Revy.

"God," she whispered. "What a fucking joke. You can't tell me you seriously believe all that shit. You wear the uniform, but you reek of my world. There ain't no God, Padre. Face it, you're the one living a lie."

"You've lost your faith," Pius said calmly. "That's not uncommon. You don't think the Lord might have had a hand in leading me to you? It can't be coincidence."

"If you're gonna start preaching about the grace of God and try to convert me to your bullshit religion, you can save your breath. Only reason I'm out here is because of your money. That's all that matters to me." More silence followed that. Revy remembered a conversation she had had with Rock in the past, one strikingly similar to this one. He voiced his disapproval of her greed when she attempted to grave rob an old Nazi U-boat. She put him in his place right away. Now, she could admit to herself that she regretted how harsh she had been on him. She told him that the next time he questioned her, the next time he presumed to tell her what to do, she would kill him. That had been unnecessary, but emotions had been high.

"You remind me of a few kids I used to meet with," Pius told her. "We used to have a church group for underprivileged children. Most of them had been living on the street. The stories they told me disgusted me, but after a while, it takes a lot to surprise you. If someone had shown you a little kindness earlier in life, maybe you wouldn't have ended up here. Maybe you'd be living a normal life."

"What the fuck do you know?!" she wheezed, more emotion in her voice than normal.

"I know you don't want to listen to me," Pius explained. "I know you'll want to shoot me the first chance you get when I let you out of there. But I also know it's not too late for you." She did not answer him. If he was going to insist on keeping her in here, she would not do him the courtesy of answering his little musings. He had already crossed the line many times. All that was left now was to wait for her cigarette to go out. When that happened, she would come for him. "I feel sorry for you. I wonder if you ever had faith in anything other than your guns and your next paycheck."

Revy had been staring blankly into space, but her eyes slowly went to the window. She spotted something there. A dove, frightened and alone. It seemed to glance inside the room before taking off, leaving a single feather to fall softly down onto the windowsill. Just like that, Revy was back in New York, a child. She remembered her drunken father smashing his bottle against her face, a callous, uncaring man who showed no love for his own daughter. She remembered a police officer taking her to a cell to rape her. She remembered returning to the man who raised her, her own flesh and blood. And how he asked for another drink after what had happened to her rather than show any infinitesimal spec of compassion. That's when she shot him, content to allow such a miserable, pathetic excuse for a human being to live no longer.

"Yeah, I believed in God," Revy spoke finally, her voice low and steady. "I was a believer, just like you. That was a long time ago, now. But it didn't last long. I stopped believing in some higher power above when that cop forced himself on me. What's a little Chinese bitch to do when her own father doesn't want to hear what just happened to her? A bullet was too fucking quick for him. It doesn't take much to make you see the truth of it all. There ain't nothing out there, Padre. There's just you, your weapon of choice and getting paid. So, yeah…I enjoyed killing those assholes out there. 'Cause what's life without a little excitement here and there?" There was no way of telling how Pius reacted to that, but if his silence was anything to go by, he wasn't taking that too well. But he had asked for a confession, and Revy delivered. It was up to him how he wanted to proceed.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. He claimed to have heard some disturbing things. Revy almost laughed at that notion. He didn't know the half of what the world had to offer. He wouldn't know true cruelty if it hit him in the face.

"You fucking should be." Revy's cigarette was almost finished, now. Soon, it would be time to show this priest what she was really capable of. He would know true fear, true darkness, not like the fairy tales he would tell the followers of his religion. If there was a Satan, Revy had gazed upon his face many times. She knew the darkness all too well. The light could not touch her. She was too far gone, too consumed by corruption.

There was a clicking sound that Revy realised was the door being unlocked. She leaned forward so she would not fall backwards when the priest opened it. The cigarette was little more than a butt, now. She let it fall from her mouth to land on the floor as Pius opened the door and dropped the Cutlasses. Revy reached for them slowly before rising and putting her holsters back on. She took the guns in her hands, then, turning to face the priest. He looked frightened. He was trying to hold it together, to compose himself, but he was failing. A single bead of sweat dribbled down his face as his breathing became heavy and rapid. The tension in the air was immense. Revy took a step forward, then, and planted one of her Cutlasses firmly beneath the priest's chin. Then she leaned forward. She was smiling openly, her teeth bared like a rabid dog as she spoke.

"I hope you got what you were looking for, Padre. I give one hell of a confession. But that's between me and God now, right? Because if anyone else finds out about what we talked about, I'll put you in the fucking ground." She did not give him a chance to answer her, instead pointing her other Cutlass at the window behind him and firing. The former cartel reinforcements had arrived and one of them lay dead already. The rest were gunned down shortly after. Revy showed them no mercy, especially not now. Her bloodlust was exceptionally high today as the sun rose into the sky and sprinkled its light across the wilderness.

Pius had not moved from the spot he stood in when Revy emerged from the room. Even after the shooting stopped, he remained there. The image of her face had been burned into his mind. Her words repeated in his ears over and over. He would not forget this, not anytime soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: A Stray Wolf

There were candles around her as she prayed, kneeling on the cold concrete. She was in the catacombs below Roanapur, that much she could tell already. What did not seem to strike her as odd immediately was the fact that she was no longer maimed like she had been. Now, Roberta was in perfect condition, as though she had never sustained any injury against the Americans she tried so viciously to wipe out. Her eyes were closed, her two gentle hands clasped together as she murmured her religious mantra under her breath. When she finished, she opened her eyes. In front of her upon the small porcelain sink, were several items she recognised.

The first, a gun that had been used to take many lives, a weapon she no longer possessed. Beside it was a small bottle of pills, meds she had been taking after she came out of retirement for revenge. And lastly, to the right, she spotted the picture of the man who haunted her relentlessly, a man she killed without mercy or remorse, a man who claimed she had tormented him by tearing up a picture of his family in front of him before ending his life without so much as flinching. She wanted to forget all of this, to erase it from her mind and live in peace with her family. But it was too late for that now. She had no control over her own body, doomed to remain kneeling as the voice from behind her spoke its poisonous words.

"You've already lost, Rosarita," he told her, his gravelly voice unyielding in its intent to break her spirit. It was the man from the Cuban Navy Special Forces, the one who had bested her in combat after leading a unit of F.A.R.C. troops into Roanapur to hunt her down. "You went after those men and what good did it do you? The boy never wanted revenge. He didn't ask you to kill the Foxes, did he? So who was it all for?"

"The Young Master had his father taken from him," Roberta told him adamantly. "They took him from this world…those _Foxes!_ I believed…"

"You believed they needed to die so Garcia could live in peace." The second voice was calmer, more pleasant. But it, too, sought only to torment Roberta. It was the Japanese man whose picture sat in front of the maid. "But that wasn't the case. He told you himself he didn't want that. He never did."

"You were just being selfish," the first man said. "You wanted to kill those men, Rosarita. It's who you are. You were a bloodhound, _the_ Bloodhound. But now you're just a stray wolf. That's all you'll ever be."

"Shut up…" Roberta wheezed weakly.

"And what did your selfishness get you?" the Japanese man asked, taking a seat on the bed behind the first speaker. "In the end, Garcia was forced to pull the trigger just so he could save you. 'The sin is mine', that's what he said. Your actions led to that moment. You know the weight of your sins better than anyone. How must it feel for someone so young to be forced to shoulder that weight on your behalf, too?"

"SHUT UP!" Roberta screamed. Regaining control over her body, she grabbed the gun from the sink and turned it on the two men, firing at them blindly. None of the shots hit them, despite being perfectly on target. As well as this, the clip of the gun never seemed to end. Once she realised her attacks were futile, she lowered the weapon and hung her head in shame. "Who are you to presume to tell me of my sins?!"

"Don't you remember?" asked the nameless Japanese man. "Have you already forgotten me?"

"I remember you," Roberta groaned. "I've tried atoning for my sins. I did everything I could. And still you haunt me, day and night! What must I do to be allowed to live in peace?!"

"You're so blinded by your own defiance that you can't even see the error of your ways," the man from Havana said, grabbing her attention. "The Wolf is out there right now. You've doomed him to repeat your mistakes. Only he isn't swallowing those pills, is he?" Roberta gritted her teeth, but she had no energy to act upon the emotions erupting inside her.

"He deserved to know," the maid answered, defiant until the end. She knew her words hadn't had the desired effect. She knew the assassin was out there right now on a vendetta of his own, fuelled by revenge or the search for answers. Or both. "It would have been worse if I lied to him."

"Would it? He had put all of that behind him. You learned the truth about his old masters. You knew the memories of his Pack were buried. But you just couldn't help yourself. You had to go and dig them back up again."

"Your actions caused a lot of pain," the second man chimed in. "You only barely survived your encounter with the Americans. How will you feel when the Wolf returns to Roanapur in a coffin?" Roberta clutched the sides of her head.

"Leave me alone!" she roared at the men. "What have I done to deserve so much torment?! Haven't I paid for my sins? Don't I deserve to be at peace?!"

"You forfeited that right a long time ago," the first man informed her callously. "When the day finally comes that your 'Young Master' pays the price for your actions, you'll finally know the pain you've caused. And we will be there to remind you who to blame." Roberta was content to listen no longer. She turned the gun on the two men again in a futile attempt to banish them. Again, that elicited the same result. They remained, only now they were smiling openly at her distress as tears formed in her eyes and started to stream down her face. Left with no other options, she planted the side of the gun against her own head.

"Master Garcia…forgive me…" She pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot rang in her ears as she launched upwards from the couch she had been sleeping on. She placed her hand on her forehead, her only remaining hand. The dream was far more vivid than others she usually had during her restless nights. That was due in no small part to the guilt she felt for sending Wolf on his hunt. She had not intended to do so, of course, but when she awoke the morning after, she was alone and the assassin had not returned. That was four days ago, now. Roberta was in no condition to go anywhere, nor did she want to risk being spotted by someone who recognised her. The last thing she needed was for it to get back to Hotel Moscow or the Triad that she was back in Roanapur. She could have gone to Garcia and voiced her concerns, but she did not wish to involve him in this if it could be avoided. This was her burden to bear.

She steadied her breath and glanced across the room. Wolf's aviator jacket was hanging by the door. The rest of his clothes were scattered around the apartment. His weapons, however, had been taken with him. There was no doubt in Roberta's mind that he was gone to find Ashur. She wiped her brow and dragged herself to her feet. She needed to find him, no matter the risk that stayed her hand before now. He had been missing for too long. She was not content to leave him out there, especially not after what happened to her during her rampage in the city. She could not live with the added guilt of knowing she would be responsible for the assassin being maimed, or worse, killed. It was up to her to bring him back before it was too late.

(*)

The man across the street went by the name Ishmael. He was a smuggler, one of the lesser known criminals in this city. He got away with operating under the noses of the cartels and ruling factions by sneaking his merchandise onto shipments belonging to other, more reputable players coming into the city. He primarily dealt in small, concealable weapons for prostitutes and gamblers to hide on their person while they went about their business, but every so often he'd try his hand at smuggling something more impressive into the city. Lucky for him, nobody seemed to have caught on yet. That, or his actions weren't having a big enough ripple effect to even register on the radar of anyone important enough to pose a threat to him.

He was a short, greasy Taiwanese man with a dirty yellow checked shirt and denim dungarees. A straw hat covered his head and a pipe seemed to permanently protrude from his mouth. There was also a Colt Python Snubnose holstered at his hip. Right now, he was at the street corner, speaking to a blonde woman dressed in a plunging red dress. The area they were in was deserted. There were no street lights, no cars, nothing. It was the perfect spot for them to meet. During the entirety of the conversation, he leaned his hand on the wall and invaded her personal space by getting far too close to her. She looked none too pleased to be dealing with him. That did not matter, however. As soon as they were finished speaking, it would be time. The Wolf just needed the prostitute to leave and he could make his move.

He stood on the other side of the street, his form concealed by the darkness. Despite the fact that there were plenty of people who knew him in this city, he was unrecognisable right now. He wore black military boots on his feet, camouflage combat trousers, a cream-coloured sweatshirt with its three buttons undone and fingerless woollen black gloves covering his hands. Around his neck was a scarf that matched his trousers and covering his torso he wore a black leather biker jacket. The collar had been turned up as if to emphasise that his intentions were far from noble here. The woman hid an envelope that clearly contained a very small firearm in her dress and then turned to leave. Ishmael slapped her on the ass before she took off in the other direction. That was Wolf's window. He walked out into the street and headed straight for the man.

"You lost, Cowboy?" Ishmael croaked confrontationally. "You better keep walking unless you want to end up in a garbage can." Wolf did not hesitate for even a second. He locked eyes with Ishmael and reached out his arms as he prepared to pin the smuggler to the wall. The Taiwanese man took the Python is his right hand but he was too slow. Wolf grabbed the arm and pointed the gun into the sky before smacking the smuggler against the concrete wall behind him. "What's the meaning of this?! Do you know who I am?!"

"Yes I do," Wolf answered him. His words were slow and concise as if to annunciate his points. "I know all about you, Ishmael. And I know about the man you met with three days ago in this exact spot. The outsider, the lost puppy. Ashur. I know he contacted you. I want you to-" Wolf's words were cut off by a sound to his left. He maintained eye contact with Ishmael for a few seconds before slowly turning his head to see what it was. There was a dog there in the street, a hound with drool hanging from its mouth. Its ribs were visible. It was obviously hungry, but it was growling openly at the two men. Wolf locked eyes with the beast. His gaze did not waver when the dog started barking. It seemed like the animal was fit to go on the attack for the briefest of moments before Wolf's gaze became more intense. After that, the noise stopped. There was no growling, no barking. Just silence. That was followed by the poor beast putting its tail between its legs and whining softly, lowering its head as though in submission. With a toothy smile, Wolf turned back to Ishmael. If the man hadn't been scared before, he definitely was now, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"You better go away and leave me to my business now while I give you the chance," he spat. That was ballsy. "Unless you want me to put a bullet in your brain." Wolf did not flinch. No, he chuckled, a little too much if Ishmael's expression was anything to go by.

"If you think threats like that scare me, you haven't been paying attention," the assassin told him. "I've had the barrel of a gun in my mouth for years now, that's just how it is. But the fucked up thing? I'm starting to love the taste of metal." With that, he leaned over, stuck out his tongue, and licked the full length of the Python's barrel. Then he returned his maniacal gaze to the smuggler. He could almost smell the urine as Ishmael emptied his bladder right there in the street.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Weeding The Garden

Dutch was the only one home when Hotel Moscow's leader arrived at the apartment. Balalaika rang ahead to say she would be stopping by, presumably to hire Lagoon Company for a job. Dutch had instinctually winced at the thought, the memory of the previous string of jobs he had done for Balalaika flashing before his eyes. Normally, Hotel Moscow's head would have been happy with explaining the details of the job over the phone. That was how it had been done in the past, for the most part. The only exceptions that called for a personal visit were cases here a certain level of urgency or importance accompanied the job itself. For that reason, Dutch made a point of paying attention. He doubted this job would have any large-scale consequences, but it was obviously significant regarding the Russian mafia's operations.

"I wasn't sure you'd be home, Dutch," the woman said delicately as she took a seat in the armchair across from Lagoon Company's leader. Her man, Boris, stood sentinel behind her. Balalaika herself still bore several nasty scars across what had been the untouched half of her face, though they had started to heal since being inflicted. "I thought you and the others would be taking some hard-earned leave."

"I was tempted," he told her. "But getting wasted at the Yellowflag and watching Revy get into drunken brawls doesn't put food on the table."

"Indeed," Balalaika concurred. "Well, then, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear I have a job lined up for you. It shouldn't pose too much trouble. In fact, I imagine you'll find it fairly routine compared to most of the work you've done recently."

"That sounds good to me. But isn't that really something you could have told me over the phone? Why go to the trouble of coming all the way out here?" Balalaika smirked.

"Well, naturally, Dutch," she said in her almost singsong voice. "I feel the same way. Why waste the time and effort meeting in person when a call would do the trick? But this job I mentioned isn't the only reason I'm here." That was to be expected. Whenever Balalaika called to see Dutch in person, it was usually bad news. That, or something pressing had come up that she needed to inform them about. Dutch was hopeful this had nothing to do with the Lovelaces being back in Roanapur. While it was true that Balalaika had relaxed her iron grip on the city a little since the death of Hunter Woods, she would still more than likely hold Revy, and by extension Lagoon Company, responsible for the family's presence in the city. In that regard, her being here in person would be to send a message that Lagoon were on thin ice and needed to be careful. If this did turn out to involve the Lovelace family, Dutch would be having a word with Revy later.

"I thought you might say that," Dutch told her. She must have noticed the slight discomfort in his voice judging from her grin. "Well, I'm all ears."

"Well, it's recently come to my attention that Two-Hands and Rock recently found themselves in Venezuela. Doing a job for the Lovelace, boy, I believe?" Dutch had to physically resist the urge to moan out loud.

"That's correct," he answered, composing himself as best he could.

"Well, as it turns out, a certain individual who found himself on the receiving end of young Revy's guns now finds himself in the city. A man by the name of Alejandro."

"Is that so?" Dutch asked, sitting up in his chair with newfound interest. Perhaps Roberta's presence in the city would not come back on Lagoon Company after all. But Dutch did not know the name Balalaika mentioned. The details of the job Revy and Rock had seen to in Venezuela were few. Dutch hadn't asked for specifics, nor had he been offered any, but he assumed this Alejandro managed to piss Revy off one way or another. It was incredible he had survived at all, in Dutch's mind.

"Rock did mention that a few of these people escaped," Dutch began as he tried to recall what little he had been told. "They invaded the boy's estate, or so I'm told. Revy must have chased them off."

"How noble of her," Balalaika said in false mockery. "As it happens, Alejandro used to work for the Colombian cartel. Naturally, I contacted Abrego. I wasn't enthusiastic about the idea, but if anyone would know about this man, it would be his countrymen. The cartel's leaders back in South America are offering quite the hefty bounty for Alejandro's head."

"Is this an invitation to hunt him down?" Dutch asked. It was intended as a joke, despite how possible it was that Balalaika was attempting to plant the seed in his head. She could be very manipulative when she wanted. When she heard him, she started laughing.

"Oh, of course not, Dutch," she said flippantly. "What you and your people do in your own time is your business. But…you've done a lot for me during a very trying time and I feel that I owe you a heads up. Word has it that Alejandro has it out for Two-Hands. Apparently, she gunned down some of his followers in Venezuela. It's inevitable he'll be coming for revenge." That made a bit more sense. Considering a plan that, from what Dutch had been told, was formulated to bring about the death of Roberta and Wolf had been foiled by Revy's interference, it was only natural those responsible would seek retribution. On that note, it was possible the other two individuals Rock mentioned would accompany Alejandro, though considering Balalaika had no information regarding them, it was safe to say they weren't in the city yet. It was possible they had managed to slip under Hotel Moscow's radar, however.

"Well, shit," Dutch croaked. "That's all we need right now. I'm getting too damn old to keep doing this."

"You and me both, Dutch." There was a hint of genuineness to Balalaika's words. "Never a moment's peace, is there?"

"You can say that again," Dutch told her as he produced a cigarette. "Anyway, I appreciate the heads up. I'll make sure to tell the others to keep their eyes open in case this guy decides to try something."

"Two-Hands isn't home, I take it?" Balalaika asked, then. Considering she also had a job ready and waiting for Lagoon Company, it was likely that she wanted to brief them on the details.

"She headed out," replied Dutch. "Think she needed to clear her head. I don't know what's going on with her, but I get the feeling it's been a long few days for her." As observant as ever, Balalaika raised an eyebrow when she heard that. Dutch did not believe she really cared all that much about the mental or emotional state of Lagoon Company, but she was an intelligent woman, one who had worked closely with Revy in the past. She knew a lot more than she let on.

"Oh, well, I'm sure I can trust you to pass on the details of the job," she said enthusiastically.

"Of course. What is it?" Balalaika inhaled deeply as if preparing herself for an exhaustive explanation.

"A situation has arisen," she began slowly. "I've spent the last week preparing my people for a mission in Hong Kong. As you know, there are still some remaining Dead Men operating in the city. After Hunter's death, I set aside time to plan an attack against the last of his followers." She put particular distasteful emphasis on the name of the man who almost killed her and her face twitched briefly, almost imperceptibly. She must have been remembering when he struck her with his spiked glove. "Chang has offered to contact the Triad but considering they're based in a different district of the city, they've never crossed paths with the Dead Men. It's unlikely they even knew of Hunter's existence."

"Let me guess," Dutch interrupted her. "They'll refuse to help because it's not their problem?"

"Precisely," Balalaika sighed. "I don't blame them, I suppose. After all, this is not their battle. It might be better if they stay out of the way altogether. But as it is, the territory formerly run by the Dead Men was once home to several smaller gangs that were either wiped out or absorbed by Hunter once he arrived in the city first. Without the Dead Men to leash them, they've begun fighting back."

"And what is it you need from me?" Dutch asked patiently. Balalaika reached inside the jacket of her skirt suit and produced a single sheet of paper which she began to unfold.

"The first wave of my people are over there right now," she said. "It's been difficult to get them into the city armed and prepared for what will be a bloody conflict, but I've managed to pull a few strings in the right direction to make it possible. But even so, I've been forced to seek assistance elsewhere. That's where you come in, Dutch." She reached out the piece of paper towards him and he took it eagerly, reading the words written across it. It was a list of weaponry. "I've already had my people put in an order with the Rip-Off Church. The items I requested are ready and waiting. I'd like you to smuggle this equipment into the city for me." That would be a difficult job, but one that was doable. Dutch had certainly taken larger risks in the past for a paycheck.

"This is some serious hardware," he mused. "And the pier we'll be moored at, we have clearance?"

"If the Church delivered, you'll have all the paperwork you need," Balalaika told him. "Any undesirables shouldn't have any need to come aboard to check out your cargo. The paperwork I ordered doesn't give them that authority. Once they move off, my own people will meet you to take the equipment off your hands. After that, you can return to the city. I'll have sizeable compensation waiting for you."

"How sizeable?"

"Sixty thousand American dollars. I take it that suffices?"

"It sure does," Dutch told her. "But what about the journey length? I don't think the Lagoon will make it to Hong Kong and back on fumes."

"We'll have three vessels stationed along the route you'll be taking," Balalaika told him, setting his mind at ease. "You can refuel on the way to and from Hong Kong."

"Well, alright," Dutch said finally. He was eager to get this job underway. Not only would it be considerably less risky and dangerous than previous ventures, but the pay was very satisfactory. Truthfully, sixty grand was a lot for a simple delivery job, but Balalaika was probably inclined to offer Dutch a sum he couldn't refuse to counteract the fact that if they were caught trying to smuggle this shipment of weapons into the city, they would be in serious trouble. But Dutch was a professional. He would look over the paperwork once the Rip-Off Church delivered. If he wasn't satisfied, the job would be off. But he knew Hotel Moscow would be thorough with this, especially considering they needed their people resupplied more than Dutch needed the payment.

"So, it's agreed, then?" Balalaika asked. She knew the answer already, she was just big on formalities. "You'll see this job through?"

"I will," Dutch told her. "Your boys will get their equipment, don't you worry."

"Marvellous, Dutch. I do admire your determination." With that, she rose and prepared to return to her office. "If there are any problems with the delivery from the Church, do let me know. I wouldn't want you heading off to Hong Kong without everything in order, now, would I?"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: One Good Gamble

Revy surveyed the list in her hand as Rock continued on towards the Rip-Off Church as fast as he could. Considering Balalaika had called to inform them that she expected them to leave for Hong Kong tomorrow, they needed to get this underway quickly. The Church had apparently already acquired the necessary equipment Hotel Moscow needed. That was smart, in Rock's mind. For other jobs, they would have to put in the order themselves and wait for Sister Yolanda to have it shipped into the country. This was a lot more convenient, especially considering Hotel Moscow was covering all of the costs. Not only that, but Lagoon were being paid considerably for their services, too. Assuming everything went off without a hitch, this job would be a welcome change of pace. But Rock had a sneaking suspicion there would be complications. Sure, it was possible the Dead Men that remained would attempt to hijack the shipment or eliminate Lagoon Company altogether so the weapons never reached Hotel Moscow's people, but that wasn't what concerned Rock.

Shortly after he learned they would be going to Hong Kong, several concerns took shape in his mind, one of which he couldn't quite forget. He knew a lot about Balalaika and how she operated, he had seen it first-hand many times. He knew blood would inevitably be spilled. Not only the Dead Men, but others Rock suspected would either end up caught in the crossfire as collateral damage or targeted by Balalaika directly.

"This is one hell of a list," Revy piped up, placing her feet up on the dashboard and rolling down the window to let out some of the smoke from her cigarette. "Sis must be planning something big. I mean, I knew she didn't fuck around, but this is a lot, even for her." That was true. Balalaika hadn't just ordered weapons and ammo as had been suspected, she had also placed several orders for plastic explosives and body armour. She was equipping her people for a full-scale war, though it went unsaid that this would be far more one-sided than the one with Hunter. The Dead Men were few and scattered, not to mention that they had their hands full trying to keep their control over the various smaller gangs that once swore allegiance to them. Hotel Moscow would have this wrapped up in a matter of days.

"She's not going to show them any mercy," said Rock wearily. Truthfully, he was tired of all this fighting. He knew the Dead Men needed to be eradicated once and for all lest they get the idea to try and assassinate Balalaika at some point in the future, but Rock didn't want any part of it. Nevertheless, this job couldn't be avoided. He would have to swallow his feelings and put up with it. A strange ominousness accompanied the thought of finally setting sail for Hong Kong, an air of anxiousness for reasons known only to Rock, reasons he had deigned to share so far.

"Damn right, she's not," Revy answered as though that was obvious. It probably was, but Rock felt the need to voice it out loud. Especially considering the thoughts swimming around inside his head, the fears he hadn't voiced to Revy. "After what these assholes did in Roanapur, I'd be surprised if she didn't string up every last one of them outside her office just for shits and giggles. They had this coming to them." The journey to Hong Kong would take almost three days if the Lagoon was moving at cruising speed to conserve as much fuel as possible. This was a job they had to commit to completely. Perhaps that was why Balalaika was being so generous regarding the costs involved. Rock pulled up outside the Rip-Off Church shortly and Revy exited the car, knocking on the door abruptly. She never was one for civility. What was more, she spent a considerable amount of time drinking here with Eda already. This place was like a second Yellowflag to her. The door creaked open slowly and the blonde nun stuck her head out inquisitively.

"Two-Hands. A little early to be drinking, isn't it?"

"I'm not here for that, Eda," Revy told her abruptly. She held the list up in front of the nun and tapped on it with one finger. "Sis put in an order recently. We're just here to collect."

"That so?" Eda asked, adjusting her bright pink sunglasses. "I'll have to get Yolanda to look it over."

"Oh, what?!" Revy exclaimed. "We don't have a lot of time here, Eda. I was kinda hoping you'd just give us the goods and we could be on our way."

"No can do," Eda told her defensively. "It's not my call. You know what the old bitch is like, she handles all the paperwork. Just sit tight, I ain't gonna take long." Already irritated, Revy leaned against the doorframe and sighed as if to demonstrate her annoyance.

"Jeez. Talk about making a fucking song and dance out of it." Yolanda appeared not long after and snatched the list from Revy's hands.

"Rebecca, I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"Can it, ya old skank," Revy snapped. "Have you got the goods or what? Balalaika isn't exactly patient with this. She wants us out on the water pronto."

"Oh, overseas work, is it?" Yolanda asked as nosy as ever. "I should have guessed, considering the equipment on this list."

"The Ivans must be seriously pissed at someone," Eda agreed. "Looks like they're starting a fucking war. Anyone in particular they have their eyes on?"

"You know I can't say, Eda," Revy scolded her. "We didn't get a reputation for our services by blabbing about every fucking job that came our way."

"A little testy this morning, aren't we?" Yolanda teased. That did nothing to lessen Revy's irritability, but she held her tongue while the old woman examined the list. Rock suspected she was intentionally dragging out what should have been a very quick task just to get under Revy's skin. Yolanda was thorough, especially regarding an order of this magnitude, but there weren't that many items on the list, nor were any of them particularly confusing, least of all to someone who was in the business of acquiring weaponry illegally for a living. Revy began to tap her foot impatiently just as Yolanda appeared to be getting towards the end of the sheet of paper. Rock was almost going to exit the car and implore Yolanda to hurry when she finally spoke up.

"Hmm," she grunted. "Well, everything appears to be in order. Hotel Moscow sure are particular. Eda, show them to their merchandise." The blonde nodded and waltzed over to a van parked just beside the chapel. It was facing away from the car Rock was in as Eda opened the back doors, revealing several unopened crates. There was a lot of equipment in there. Rock was beginning to question whether they even had enough room in the car for all of it.

"Here you go," Eda said lackadaisically before snatching up an envelope from on top of one of the crates and handing it to Revy. "That's the paperwork. Just give it to Dutch, he'll know what to do with it. I can't imagine you'll comprehend half the words written on these sheets." Revy's frown deepened and she grabbed the envelope forcefully.

"Fuck you!" she spat. She turned to the car, then. "Rock! You just gonna fucking sit there?! Make yourself useful and load this shit up!" Exasperated, the Japanese man did as he was told without arguing.

"That's enough, Eda," Yolanda called as she headed back inside the chapel. "Come along, now. We have business to attend to." The nun offered Revy one more smile before heading towards the doorway.

"Let me know when you get back, Two-Hands," she called. "I'm sure you'll want to blow off some steam. Not that you can't do that already. Ain't that right, Romeo?" She darted inside after Yolanda and shut the doors as Revy balled her hands into fists. Luckily for Revy, it seemed Rock hadn't heard any of that. He was too preoccupied with the difficult task of transferring the crates of equipment from the van to the car by himself. Revy watched him through her scowl for a few seconds before her expression softened and she grabbed the crate he was carrying. She held it no problem but he had been struggling to keep it off the ground.

"Need a hand, Rock?" she asked him, offering a smile that was somehow both mocking and friendly. The two of them finished up quickly, completely filling up the trunk and back seat of the car. Once they were satisfied, Revy slammed the back doors of the van closed and hopped back in beside Rock. He started the engine and took off for home. The encounter at the Church had been a welcome distraction. He was hiding it well, but his thoughts had been eating away at him ever since Dutch passed on the details of this job. Now that they were back on the road, the car's engine the only sound breaking the silence, those thoughts and concerns had returned.

"What time do we leave tomorrow?" he asked as Revy played with the lid of her flip lighter, flicking it open and shutting it closed promptly. She continued to do this as they spoke, the clicking sound serving only to irritate Rock. It gave him a sensation akin to the sound of fingernails scratching a chalkboard.

"Dutch said the crack of dawn," Revy told him. "I assume that means he'll be waking us just after six in the morning. What a joke."

"I don't blame him," Rock said. "Considering the time it will take to get to Hong Kong, I'm surprised we aren't leaving at midnight tonight."

"Don't say that to Dutch," Revy groaned. "He might change his fucking mind. Anyway, I wouldn't count on getting too much sleep tonight if I were you." She turned to face the window, watching the signs and patches of grass pass them by as they headed back in towards the city. "I sure don't."

"Revy."

"Huh?" the gunslinger grunted, startled. She was more than likely concerned he had heard her and planned to inquire as to why she would not sleep, but a question like that was stupid, even for Rock. He should know better by now than to ask Revy something like that.

"Balalaika doesn't like loose ends," Rock began. Revy felt relieved for the briefest of seconds before she processed what had just been said. "Taking down the Dead Men isn't going to a problem for her. She's done this before, after all. But the equipment she ordered will have her over prepared, if anything. Then again, I don't exactly know her plan of attack…"

"You're starting to ramble, Rock," Revy snapped. He sighed.

"My point is that she's not going to want to leave any of them alive," he explained. "Even loose ends that might not technically have any direct connection to the Dead Men anymore." The noise from the flip lighter stopped suddenly and Revy angled her head only a tad.

"Rock…if you're going where I think you are with this, you ain't gonna do yourself any favours." He swallowed, watching her closely for any sign of aggression or hostility. After all, he had no doubt she knew exactly what he was getting at and that would only anger her. "It's best to just forget about it. We have a job to do. I don't want you pulling another stunt like you did in Tokyo. You understand? Because I gotta say, I'm getting tired of saving your ass." Rock did not waver. He would say what he had to and let Revy do what she would with it.

"Balalaika is going to kill Rahul and Usagi, isn't she?" he said calmly. "Rahul used to work for Hunter. He was a high-ranking member of the Dead Men. She can't risk leaving him alive. And she won't want Usagi to have the chance to pick up the pieces, either."

"Rock."

"Don't worry, Revy. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I told you once I appreciated you putting yourself on the line for me. I meant that. I still do. And I'll prove it to you. I'll get the job done and move on without interfering so we can get back to Roanapur. Even if that means letting Balalaika kill the Matsumotos. I won't say a word, Revy. I promise." There was only silence for a few seconds while that hung in the air like a bad smell. Rock kept his eyes on the road, but he periodically glanced over at Revy just to see if she had even heard that. After what felt like the most tense fifteen seconds of Rock's life, the sound of the flip lighter resumed.

"Just keep driving, Rock."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Glass Half Empty

Dutch heard a noise behind him, craning his neck to see Revy emerging into the command centre. Truthfully, he had almost been dozing off. Despite the fact that they were almost at their destination, they were all growing weary. Revy, in particular had resigned herself to the forward cabin for most of the journey. They stocked up on food and water to get them through until they were back in Roanapur, mostly cans of chili and meat. Shortly after they set sail for the first time, Revy had taken a stash of rations, her Cutlasses and a stack of magazines with her into the forward cabin. After that, they rarely saw her. Dutch wasn't an idiot, he knew immediately something was off. He hadn't bothered to ask her, of course, but he could tell. The fact that she was here now meant either she wanted to talk about it or she knew the journey was coming to an end and had to accept the fact that she couldn't lock herself away forever. It was probably the latter. Dutch reached for the drink in front of him and raised it to his mouth slowly.

"How much longer, Dutch?" Revy asked. Her voice was already irritable. "I'm getting fucking cabin fever sitting around with my thumb up my ass."

"That tends to happen when you lock yourself away," he shot back at her. That was met with stony silence. "About twenty minutes. I've got the paperwork right here." He patted the chest of his sleeveless jacket. The documentation he needed must have been tucked away in the inside pocket. "Anyone bothers us, our asses are covered. We just need to dock and Hotel Moscow's people can take all this stuff off our hands once and for all."

"About time," Revy groaned, folding her arms and glancing out through the windows. She was a complex person, especially in the early days. Dutch was probably the only one who could keep her on a leash and even then, she was a live wire. But after everything they had been through together recently, Revy had grown more capable of dealing with her emotions. Asking her about her troubles, even suggesting talking them out, was often met with ridicule or a string of threats. But she wasn't beyond getting everything out in the open. If Dutch chose his words carefully and successfully got Revy to let her guard down, he could discover what was bothering her. But he already had a hunch.

"So, you wanna tell me what's got you wound up tighter than a virgin in a whorehouse?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Revy's tone wasn't aggressive, just curious.

"You can't tell me nothing's bothering you," he told her firmly. "I've known you long enough to know that's bullshit. You locked yourself away for almost three days without speaking to any of us. I assume you came out to use the little girl's room, though. Otherwise, I'll be handing you a mop when we get home." Revy sneered scornfully. She seemed content to remain defensive regarding Dutch's line of questioning, but even she could not hold out forever. She shut her eyes and hunched over, looking as uncomfortable as ever.

"You know I ain't good at this shit, Dutch," she said quietly. Neither of the others were within earshot, but this was clearly a soft spot for Revy. She did not want to speak about this at all.

"Yeah. But sooner or later, it's gonna have to come out. I'd rather it be in the form of words than bullets." Revy let out a long, deep sigh. It seemed she would finally give in.

"You remember when me and Rock came back from Tokyo?" she began. "I told you what happened, right?" Dutch prepared himself for what would be a tricky conversation.

"Yeah, I remember." Dutch had learned about Tokyo, about how Balalaika's negotiations had turned sour and she was on the warpath, determined to wipe out the Washimine Clan. He had also been told about Rock's growing friendship with Yukio Washimine and how her sudden change of heart and hostility towards Rock because of his allegiance to Hotel Moscow had been a very difficult transition for him. However, once the situation had settled down and the half of Lagoon Company that had been away returned, Revy filled Dutch in on the nitty gritty details, explaining as well as she could that Rock wanted to save Yukio and that her suicide tore a piece of him away, a piece they had to accept he would never get back.

"He was so convinced he had to help that Japanese bitch," Revy continued. "He just couldn't help himself. Even got Balalaika to turn her fucking gun on him at one point. You shoulda been there, Dutch. You wouldn't believe how nuts that situation was. I'm still not even sure how we got out of it alive. 'Cause Rock had to go and open his fucking mouth. He couldn't just put a lid on it and get the job done."

"He put your ass on the line for him," Dutch deduced accurately. He was good at reading people. "He was so concerned with his own shit that he didn't stop to think how it would come back on you. I get that. So, what's he done this time?"

"He just…fuck, I dunno, Dutch." There was silence.

"That's one of Rock's biggest problems," said Dutch then in an attempt to ease the awkwardness that had swept in. Truthfully, he also wanted to get his feelings about Rock out in the open. "He never thinks of the consequences, only how it affects him at that moment. To tell you the truth, there were a few occasions when I thought I might have to let him go."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope. Cross my heart, Revy. You know as well as I do he's put us in some difficult positions in the past." Dutch was still facing forward in his chair, away from Revy. She could not see his face. He removed his sunglasses and massaged his eyes softly. He was clearly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. "I remember what he was like during the maid's rampage, Revy. None of us were cool with the way he was acting."

"Preaching to the choir, Dutchy," Revy sneered a little too sarcastically. "But that ain't my point. Not all of it, anyway. He said something really fucking dumb on our way back from the Rip-Off Church the other day."

"Oh yeah?" Dutch asked, putting his sunglasses back on. "Hit me."

"He told me Balalaika is going to kill the Matsumotos. Said she's not gonna want loose ends. So I told him to get over it, that if he tried to pull another stunt like the one in Tokyo, I might not be able to save his pathetic skin this time." Dutch did not seem moved one way or the other about that.

"That was probably for the best. If he hasn't learned by now that he can't let his emotions get in the way of a job, he never will."

"That's not even the best part, Dutch," Revy went on, lighting a cigarette. "He fucking agreed with me. He told me it wasn't fair that I had to put _my_ ass on the line to save him. He said if Usagi has to die, he's happy to sit back and let it happen." Revy hadn't explicitly voiced an opinion on Rock's decision here, but Dutch could sense that tell-tale edge in her voice, that subtle tone that suggested she was indeed angry, or at the very least in distress of some sort.

"It sounds like he's finally listening to us," Dutch suggested. "But I get the feeling he pissed you off even more when he said that. Something doesn't add up here, Revy." Again, there was only silence. Dutch knew talking to Revy about her emotions and putting her in a position where she was vulnerable was about as smart as running into a minefield with no idea whatsoever where the mines were. Despite the fact that he was confident he could leash her, that he could put her in her place if she acted up, he still made a point of avoiding any line of questioning that might set her off. Perhaps it was time for that to change.

In the early days, before even Benny joined Lagoon Company, Revy was a bit more approachable. She never opened up about anything exceptionally personal, but she felt closer to Dutch, like a younger sister, almost. After Benny joined, she got what Dutch called 'Whitman Fever', the same phenomenon that had set in shortly after Rock joined. Revy's exterior hardened and she became a lot less familial. Her relationship with Dutch hadn't necessarily worsened but it certainly felt more professional after that point. But the original Lagoon Company was just the two of them together, looking out for one another. That bond would always be there, however hidden. Dutch was the person who could really get Revy to open up to him and the fact remained that regardless of how it may have seemed, he did care about her. He liked to maintain a professional persona, one that prioritised employee satisfaction in the name of getting the job done. But even Dutch could not lie that his own exterior had been breached and he had let his emotions get the better of him once or twice. Revy, as stubborn as ever, looked away from Dutch and bit down on her cigarette out of frustration.

"I don't get him, Dutch," she moaned. "One minute, he's trying everything in his power to make sure Balalaika doesn't crucify that Japanese Yakuza schoolgirl, the next he's telling me he doesn't give a shit one way or the other if his new girlfriend gets her brains blown out. Why can't he just…?"

"Just what. Revy?" Dutch asked her. That question was much more difficult to answer than it should have been for Revy. She did not seem capable of finishing out her thought. "It sounds to me like he's doing everything right. This is what you wanted, isn't it? You told me once you couldn't partner with him. But he's finally taken your advice on board. Isn't that a good thing? Isn't that what you wanted from him?" Revy made a grumbling noise before spitting out her cigarette and stamping on it. She headed for the exit, then.

"Ah screw it, Dutch. Wasn't worth bringing up after all."

"If you say so." In all honesty, Dutch was a little more disappointed by that abrupt end to the conversation than he would like to admit. He thought they were really onto something, there. Then again, that was classic Revy all over. As soon as they began to scratch the surface and get somewhere, she just hit the reset button and ignored any progress that had been made.

"Hey, Dutch." It was Revy's voice. Dutch assumed she had left already. He turned in his chair to see her waiting over by the exit.

"Something else on your mind?" She was not looking at him, nor did her face give away what she was thinking. After a few seconds, Dutch was tempted to click his fingers just to make sure she hadn't become too lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes lifted slowly to lock with his, then.

"Thanks. For the talk." Without another word, she turned and left the command centre. Dutch smirked to himself and leaned back in his seat.

"You got it."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: A New Inheritance

Most of them did not understand the Japanese man's words as he spoke, but that was why Rahul was here. He understood everything. He was to serve as a translator during this trip to Tokyo. The man across from them wore a green suit and spoke confidently, a few of his people sitting with him on the couch and the others positioned behind him. On the couch opposite, the Dead Men. Rahul Matsumoto, the translator. Max Kepler, the muscle. And in the middle, wearing a seemingly permanent toothy smile, was Hunter Woods, a glass of scotch in one hand. His eyes were fixed on the Japanese man despite the fact that he did not understand what was being said. It was an intimidation tactic. Not that there needed to be much of that here. This was a negotiation, after all. The two groups intended to help one another. But Hunter was a ferocious man, a domineering sociopath who was intent on shoving his authority in the faces of even his most trusted allies. He did not consider others his equals, he envisioned himself atop a pedestal above everyone else, completely in control. It was a good thing he didn't speak Japanese, in Rahul's mind. If he did, he may say something that could lead to an argument. At least this way, Rahul could translate his boss's words in a much more pleasant form than they had been said if Hunter saw fit to slip any unwanted words or phrases into the conversation. Once the man across from the Dead Men had finished speaking, Rahul turned to Hunter.

"He said he is prepared to offer you what was discussed," Rahul said carefully, clearly thinking about how to word this. "The man has been retired for quite some time. He doesn't kill anymore. His allegiance will take some convincing."

"Well, that's nothing to worry about," exclaimed Hunter. "I can be very persuasive, after all. As long as you bring him to me, his loyalty won't be a problem. You leave that to me." He flashed another smile as Rahul relayed his message to the Japanese man. "But, Mister Bando, there's still one thing that concerns me. Two, actually. I've done my homework on your little situation here. So, the first thing I want to know is this; who is the girl to you? You mentioned in passing that she wasn't to be involved in this. I assume that means she has a connection to your Washimine Clan." Rahul translated the words carefully, though in a much more professional manner. When he was finished speaking, Mister Bando replied and Rahul once more turned to Hunter.

"He said the schoolgirl is the only heir to the leadership of the Washimine Clan. He told me the Council won't accept any other successor. But they are reluctant to involve her. They want to keep her as far away from this business as possible." Hunter nodded. That seemed to garner his approval, surprisingly.

"I can respect that," he said. Rahul matched his every word in Japanese for the Washimine Clan. "Why let these assholes push you around when you could operate under your own terms? But there's still something I don't get. I reviewed your terms. You want us to pressure your opposition to the point that your people can rise up and return to their former status without the need for a successor. I don't completely understand these traditions you people seem so intent on living by, but it sounds like this 'Council' need to have their balls clipped." Mister Bando looked a tad concerned before he said something.

"He said the plan is to use your resources to force them into negotiations," Rahul explained. "He wants to leave them alive." Hunter openly laughed at the prospect. Bando's people began exchanging looks with one another, looks of concern.

"Let's just get this over with," Kepler said loudly, one leg on the arm of the couch and his arms splayed out across the backrest. His eyes were pointed at the dancefloor below, through the glass to his right. There were strippers dancing for the many onlookers shouting all manner of expletives at them. "If these cunts are too scared to grow some balls and hang every last one of these dirty Japs, maybe we shouldn't entertain them." Rahul decided not to translate that.

"Cool your jets, Maxy-Boy," Hunter sneered. One of the Washimine Clan members looked ready to engage Max. He was blonde, with a laughable goatee and a full pinkish-purple suit. There was a revolver at his hip. The second he stepped forward, the man in sunglasses beside Bando raised one warning arm.

"Chaka!" he snapped. A smile formed on the blonde man's lips and he raised his arms defensively.

"Oh, come on, Yoshida," the man apparently called Chaka protested. He could speak English, then. That raised the question of how many of these people actually needed Rahul to translate at all. "I wasn't gonna hurt him."

"I'd like to see ya fucking try," Kepler snarled, never taking his eyes from the dancers below.

"That's enough," Rahul snapped at them. "Let's all just settle down. Mister Woods would like a chance to respond to Mister Bando's assertion."

"Hell yes, I would," Hunter agreed, locking eyes with Chaka for a moment. The blonde almost looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Hunter's eyes stopped him. Even psychopaths knew when to control themselves for the sake of their own safety, and Chaka knew no good would come from engaging Hunter Woods. "Well, that's all well and good, Bando. But we're not talking about rigging a fucking election, here. This is war. The only way you and your people are going to get what you want is if you let me and my men wipe those fuckers off the face of the Earth. After that, with a little help from yours truly, the Washimine Clan can rule here. I get this 'Manslayer Ginji' as one of my own loyal guard dogs and you get to crown yourself king."

Rahul swallowed nervously, then he spoke the words to Mister Bando. The Japanese man listened carefully. If his face was anything to go by, he wasn't excited by this prospect, nor was he even remotely considering killing these people Hunter insisted needed to die. No, he was scared, now. He was regretting ever setting up this meeting. And Hunter caught onto that immediately. His grin faded. He swallowed the last of his scotch, setting the glass down on the table and rising from the couch. "But, hey, it's your show, after all. Don't let me tell you what to do. You know how to contact me. Let me know if you decide to make use of my services. I don't exactly want to be sitting around swinging my dick while I wait for you to make a decision." Rahul tried to word that as pleasantly as he could before leaning in towards Bando. His next words were in Japanese. Hunter was not to hear this.

"Please consider our offer," he said sincerely. "I do not wish to see your people come to harm." Bando did not reply, but he appeared to appreciate that sentiment nonetheless. The rest of the Dead Men followed their leader out of the room. Max and Chaka glared at one another for a few seconds before the former finally left and the Washimine Clan were left alone.

Rahul glanced at the lockbox in his hands. Mister Bando's representative contacted Rahul the following day to inform him that Bando had decided to refuse the offer of help from the Dead Men. Nothing had been decided yet so it wasn't too late to back out of the deal. Hunter made it clear from the get go that he hadn't committed to helping the Clan, only that he was open to doing so. But that didn't stop him from being annoyed that they decided to back out last minute. They found out over the course of the next six months that the Washimine Clan had been completely annihilated. Rumour had it that it had been another group who had been negotiating with them regarding an offer of help that saw to their destruction. Hunter was as smug as possible for a week when he heard that, gloating that if they'd simply accepted his help, they would not only all still be alive, but they'd also be ruling Tokyo with an iron fist. But Rahul hadn't shared his boss's sentiment. He wasn't annoyed that they refused to accept the assistance from the Dead Men, nor was he boastful when they were destroyed. He was sad.

It was a fate he feared for the Washimine Clan the moment Bando's expression gave away that he didn't want to negotiate with the Dead Men anymore, a fate he hoped would never come to pass. He reached into his pocket and produced a key which he proceeded to open the lockbox with. There were several items inside, namely multiple polaroid photos of unknown Japanese men and women, miscellaneous Asian currency, folded documents and a small sheathed dagger. But it was the gun that caught Rahul's eye first, a Walther PP handgun. It had been completely white in colour at one point, but its entire surface, save for the jet-black grip, was covered in oriental designs. This was an old gun, but it was in almost perfect condition. Rahul set the lockbox down and held the Walther, running his hands over the cold metal.

"This is where you ran off to." The voice came from behind Rahul. He did not turn, he knew who it was.

"Is my daughter sleeping?" he asked.

"Yeah. Like a baby." Augustus Kells came further into the room, stopping just behind Rahul. His eyes fell on the gun. "You planning to use that?"

"Did I ever tell you about my family?" Rahul asked.

"I don't believe so." After the death of Hunter Woods, Kells had accompanied the Matsumotos back to Hong Kong. Now, he lived with them, serving as a guardian of sorts and a close friend of Usagi's.

"I thought you might have suspected my surname unusual, at least for a Chinese family. The Matsumotos were not born here. No, they originated in Tokyo. My great grandfather was forced to leave the country with the rest of his peers." Kells was unsure what Rahul was getting at, but he played along anyway.

"He must have pissed off the wrong people." Rahul nodded.

"In a way. There is Yakuza blood in my veins, Kells. My great grandfather was the head of the Matsumoto Clan, once. But that didn't last too long. All it took was one mistake for the other families to decide they needed to cut him out of their lives. After that, the Clan was forced to relocate here." Images of the Washimine Clan flashed before Rahul's eyes. Their fate was strikingly similar to that of his ancestors'. Once their leader died and they refused to name a successor, they were snubbed by the other Clans and forced into a position that lead to their downfall. Fortunately, those responsible for Mister Bando's vulnerable position were eliminated, too. "Before Hunter came along, my name was the one people knew. I was the Yakuza Descendent, the Crossbreed. My people ruled here. But Hunter is gone, now. He can control us no more. And those who once pledged loyalty to me are out there with nobody to guide them." Kells placed one affectionate hand on Rahul's shoulder, but his next words were not supportive.

"Rahul, you came back here to live in peace with your daughter," he said firmly. "You finally got the chance to get out and raise Usagi away from the life of crime she'd always known. Don't throw that away just because you have an opportunity to swoop in and name yourself the King of Gangsters." Rahul's eyes were lost in the old designs on his Walther, but he took in every word. "You'll regret it later." He was right. As much as Rahul wanted to deny it, his friend was speaking sense here. They had a real chance to carve out a life of peace without involving Usagi in the criminal underworld of Hong Kong. To squander that would be worse than cruel on her.

"Of course," Rahul said at last, shaking his head and returning the Walther to its lockbox. "You're right. My daughter is the only thing that matters to me. I won't let her come to harm ever again."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Pardon, Penance And Absolution

"And then you just sign down at the end," Rock instructed the Russian man he was dealing with. His name was Alexei, one of Hotel Moscow's soldiers and their representative here in Hong Kong during this mission. They were nearing the end of the delivery now, having finally gone through all of the paperwork with the Russians. All that remained was for them to collect their merchandise and Lagoon Company could be on their way. They were eager to get moving, especially considering the stress of the last hour or so. Once they came to a stop by the port, they were immediately harassed by the harbour master and two of his inspectors. The documentation Balalaika had ordered managed to prevent them from making their way aboard the boat, but they were not so easily convinced. After Alexei arrived dressed in a full grey suit with three of his comrades, he masqueraded as an envoy from the Russian Embassy here in Hong Kong, claiming that the products being delivered by Lagoon were the property of the Consul General in charge of the Embassy. Alexei, too, had his own credentials to show the harbour master. They were fabricated, of course, for this purpose, but the harbour master could not tell the difference. He shuffled off with his inspectors shortly after, despite his earlier insistence that it didn't make sense for the Russian Embassy to be expecting a delivery from an old torpedo boat crewed by two Americans and two Asians. Nevertheless, their difficulties had passed and their part in this was almost at an end. Alexei promptly signed the end of the sheet on the clipboard and handed the pen back to Rock, who tucked it into his pocket.

"That's it, then," the man said. Though his accent was thick, he was fluent in English. "I'll have my friends examine the merchandise. After that, I'll call the truck to come and collect it. We appreciate this, Lagoon. Balalaika called ahead to let us know the risk you took on our part. We don't forget our friends." Rock nodded politely, but he was more concerned with the fact that they would have to wait around a bit longer. He was hoping everything would be squared away in no time and they could get back out on the water, despite the fact that they had spent almost three days at sea already. But that was more of a cowardly attempt to avoid the fact that he was very aware of who resided in this city. The Matsumotos still lived, but there was no telling how much longer that would last.

"Sounds like we better hang around while this all gets sorted out," Dutch said aloud as he stepped off the boat and came up behind Rock. Benny followed suit. "Everything settled with the paperwork?"

"Indeed," Alexei told him. "It's all in order. We'll have to do a quick inspection, if you don't mind my people boarding."

"Be my guest," Dutch said, gesturing towards the Lagoon. The three other Russians hopped aboard quickly to make sure everything was in order. Revy brushed passed them as they boarded, zipping up a baggy brown jacket that now covered her torso and concealed her weapons. While they were in the city, they needed to be more careful. She couldn't walk around with her Cutlasses on show like back home.

"We all set?" she asked, falling in beside Rock and glancing at the clipboard.

"Just about," Dutch told her. "After they're done checking that the goods are up to scratch, the others will come to collect and we can be on our way."

"How long is that gonna take?"

"Could be an hour," Dutch said. That brokered an annoyed glare from Revy and a disappointed scowl from Rock. "They'll be checking every firearm individually, not to mention the extras Balalaika ordered. Why don't you two take a walk and come on back later?" Something stirred in Rock when he heard that. An idea came to him.

"Ugh. Do we have-?"

"Don't worry about us, Dutch," Rock said dismissively, interrupting Revy. He handed the clipboard to Alexei. "We won't get into any trouble."

"I sure hope not," Lagoon's leader shot back as Rock started walking the length of the pier, in towards the city. Revy watched him curiously for a few seconds before following him. His pace slowed as he neared the road until finally he stopped altogether by the footpath.

"You got plans, Rock?" Revy asked him sarcastically. That question had more weight than it seemed for Rock. He knew what he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure he even wanted to go through with this. Something deep down inside him tossed and turned as it urged him to forget about this and move on, to just visit some café or bar for an hour and return to Dutch so they could go home. But he couldn't just pretend he didn't care, as easy as that would have been. He needed to do this.

"Revy, can I ask you something?"

"Um…sure, Rock. What's on your mind?"

"I've been thinking. I want to go and visit Usagi." Revy's reaction was about as expected. Her eyes widened only a fraction, almost unnoticeably. Then they shut tight and she folded her arms.

"Goddammit, Rock," she whispered. "I thought I made myself fucking clear in the car. How much of a dumbass are you?"

"I know what you're going to say. I wanted to ask you if you'd come with me."

"If you're trying to warn her what's going to happen, you'll regret it later. Balalaika already has her hands full dealing with this shit, the last thing she needs is you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Face it, Rock. You can't save her." That cold hard fact hit Rock like a bullet, but he had expected it to. He knew any attempt to save Usagi from the wrath of Hotel Moscow was a fool's errand.

"I know," he replied. "I told you I wouldn't interfere, Revy. I don't want to do anything that might put us in danger again. I don't want you to have to stick your neck out for me anymore. But if Balalaika is going to kill her I should at least get to say goodbye." Revy hadn't expected to be swayed by Rock's words, but she savoured every syllable of that last part. It dawned on her why this was so important to Rock. He had learned his lesson, he had no wish to interfere with Hotel Moscow's plans. He was not willing to risk Balalaika's fury for a second time like he had in Tokyo. He was trying to make up for his mistakes, to undo what had been done to Yukio Washimine, in some respect. He never got to say goodbye to her because the Yukio he had come to care for died long before she plunged that katana into her own throat.

The Yukio they watched die was someone else entirely. She lost herself in that city and Rock never got any closure from his budding friendship with her. It was all just shattered into thousands of pieces in such a short space of time. By visiting Usagi and speaking to her one last time before her inevitable death, Rock would be atoning for the death of Yukio, a death he held himself responsible for. And in doing so, he would have some sense of closure for it all. Revy scratched the back of her head and sighed loudly. Then her demeanour relaxed and she looked Rock in the eyes. She didn't want to go along with this, but despite herself, she didn't have the heart to refuse him, not when she finally understood why he was so fond of Usagi. It was tragic, in a way. How depressingly ironic that the feelings that he had felt for Yukio, the feelings that had so abruptly been stopped in their tracks, had transferred to Usagi in some strange way.

"You sure care about her a lot," Revy said quietly. Rock averted his eyes almost shamefully. That made Revy feel worse and she gritted her teeth. "Alright, Rock. Lead the way." That seemed to please him. Tracking down their house wasn't nearly as difficult as Revy assumed it would be. Rock had spent many hours poring over paperwork concerning Southeast Asia during his employment at Asahi Industries back in Tokyo. Not only that, but he was knowledgeable enough to know that Matsumoto wasn't inherently a Chinese name. It was originally Japanese, meaning Usagi's family had to have been immigrants at some point. Combining these two sets of information, Rock concluded that the most likely place for them to live would be the Kwun Tong district of the city, specifically the residential area where a surprising number of both immigrants and former criminals made their homes. Rock directed the taxi they had flagged down to do a pass around the residential area. It didn't take long for them to find the residence they were looking for. It was one in a long line of similar-looking side-by-side houses, with picket fences separating their yards. The house itself was modest, but very clean and well taken care of. Once the taxi took off, Revy fell into the bench beside the gate into the Matsumotos' yard.

"You're not coming in?" Rock asked. Revy grunted, clear disgust in her voice.

"Ain't nothing for me in there, Rock," she told him. "Besides, you really think they're gonna be happy to see me?"

"Why wouldn't they be?" Revy didn't answer that, deciding to light a cigarette instead.

"Just don't keep me waiting," she told him. "I'm not going to hang around here forever." Rock nodded curtly. He took a few steps forward, making his way closer to the door. His heart began to beat faster. He knew that was foolish, but it was less the impending meeting with Usagi that had the adrenaline pumping through his veins and more the irrational paranoia that suggested Hotel Moscow had already killed the girl and her father. Still, as unfounded as that thought was, it still had Rock spooked. He hesitated for just a moment before swallowing his fear and knocking on the door loudly. For a few seconds, there was no answer, not even the sound of commotion from inside. That did nothing to ease Rock's beating heart. His fears were allayed only when the knob of the door began to turn. The Japanese man let out a sigh of relief and adjusted his green tie. He felt almost giddy, like he was a child again. It was a sensation that seemed to accompany his interactions with Usagi, and Yukio, to a point. That innocence would leave him shortly.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Honour Of A Madman

The door opened slowly and Rahul poked his head out. The moment he spotted Rock's face, his expression became friendly and surprised all at once.

"Mister Okajima," he said, stunned. "I didn't think I'd ever be seeing you again. What's brought you to Hong Kong?" When he finished speaking, his eyes darted over to the back of Revy's head. He clearly suspected it was her, but he said nothing.

"It's nice to see you, Rahul," Rock told him warmly. "Why am I here? Oh, well…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He couldn't exactly say why he was in the city, but he had to come up with something. "…I had some time off." It was a sloppy bluff, quick and thoughtless. But it was believable enough for Rahul, who offered a smile. "I know you must be busy, but I actually wanted to ask if your daughter was home." Rahul was obviously surprised by that, but not in a bad way. He raised his eyebrows.

"She is, of course," he answered. "Come on in, Mister Okajima. I'm sure she will want to speak with you." Rock stepped into the house and followed Rahul inside. He was lead to a small living room of sorts. It had obviously been decorated to receive guests, considering two couches sat across from one another, separated by only a table. The carpets, wallpaper and furniture were all a deep red colour and incense was burning in the corner. Rahul gestured to one of the couches. Rock took a seat, not wishing to insult the man of the house. "I'll just fetch Usagi. She'll be along in a moment." He left the room shortly as Rock was left there. He was starting to wonder if this was a mistake after all, if meeting Usagi one last time would just make it that much worse when he heard she had been killed on Balalaika's order. But he had to persevere. He knew he would regret it even more if he just ignored her until her dying breath. He knew that he needed the chance to say goodbye before her life was snatched away. The door opening had gone completely unnoticed by him, considering he was lost in his thoughts. When he came to his senses, he spotted Usagi. She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled. Rock's heart sank a little. He pushed the less pleasant thoughts from his mind, thoughts of what would happen to this poor girl.

"Rokoro," she greeted him.

"Usagi," he responded in kind. They were both being far too formal and polite. Rock threw caution to the wind after a few seconds of silence and rose from his seat, going to her. She accepted his hug eagerly. She had missed him.

"It's good to see you," she said sincerely. "What made you decide to visit?"

 _Balalaika is going to kill you._

"I missed you," he told her simply, releasing her. They both took seats across from one another, then. "I was in the city and I decided to track you down."

"You're very resourceful!" she applauded him.

 _So are Hotel Moscow._

"Truthfully, I've missed you too. I must admit, it was a sad journey home when we left Roanapur. I was…glad to leave that place, of course. But it wasn't easy leaving all of you."

 _They're going to butcher you like a pig._

Usagi had obviously matured a bit since the last time Rock had seen her. While she still retained her innate innocence and youth that made her personality what it was, there was a maturity that accompanied her words. The way she sat and held herself during conversation also lent themselves to that fact.

"I hope everything worked out," Rock said suddenly. Usagi gave him a bemused look, grinning. She did not quite understand what he meant, but found it somewhat amusing.

"What do you mean?"

"For your family," Rock explained. "At the end, all I wanted was for you and your father to finally have a life. That's why I did what I did. That's why I…"

 _That's why I had Hunter killed._

"I hoped you could live in peace now that Hunter is gone." The mention of the man who had ruined Usagi's life, who controlled her father and endlessly dragged him through a life of crime, made Usagi visibly uncomfortable. But she recovered quickly.

"You did so much for me, Rokoro," she told him. She blushed slightly at the realisation that she was speaking very frankly, but she did not care. "After everything that happened, you were there for me. You helped me through the darkness and guided me back to the light. I am here because of you." Rock did not accept such praise. He did not feel deserving of it, not now.

"I don't deserve that," he wheezed, hunching over and placing his head in his hands.

"Of course you do," Usagi told him insistently. "Why would you think you don't?"

 _Because I work for the people who want you dead._

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

 _They'll gut your father while they make you watch._

"You're too kind to me," Rock told her. "I…thank you."

"Of course," Usagi told him. Rock tried to compose himself, but the whole situation was too horrible. He knew what would happen. He was well aware of how Balalaika would handle the Matsumotos if she decided they needed to be eradicated. _If._ There was no 'if' as far as Rock was concerned. In his mind, it had already been decided and Rahul would be murdered alongside his daughter. And Rock would have to go on bearing the weight of one more person he couldn't save, no matter how hard he tried.

"What about the other gangs?" Rock asked in an attempt to distract his mind. "Have they bothered your father at all?" Usagi squirmed in her seat.

"A little," she admitted. "But he made it clear he had decided to back off and let them do as they wished. He wants no part in their games."

 _They might be his only chance._

"I'm glad," Rock told her. "It would be a waste to squander this chance by going back that life. I'm…happy you can live in peace without any of that." Usagi leaned forward slightly and peered at Rock as if through a thick fog.

"Rokoro…are you alright? You seem tense. Is there something wrong?"

 _You're all dead._

"I'm fine," he lied. "It's just…been a long week for me. I just need some sleep, that's all." Usagi clearly wasn't completely convinced by that, but she left it alone. "I'd better be going." As Rock rose from the couch, she did the same. The two of them left the room and headed to the front door. There was an eerie tension between them, a strange sense of foreboding. But neither of them addressed it. As they lingered there for a long few moments, Rock placed his hands on Usagi's shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Take care of yourself, Usagi," he told her, wrapping his arms around her tightly and shutting his eyes. She became a little taken aback by this, but she reciprocated, hugging him back. "I'm sorry I couldn't be better. I'm sorry if I let you down. I just wanted you to be safe." Usagi wasn't even sure he was speaking to her anymore and that startled her. Rock finally released her and smiled. "Goodbye, Usagi. Be safe." With that, he left her confused and worried, making his way outside and coming up beside Revy. They heard the door of the house close softly.

"So…you get what you were looking for in there?" Revy asked. She did not expect him to reply right away. She knew he must have been sifting through his thoughts right now. When he did reply, his words were calm and collected.

"I guess so," he said meekly. Revy flicked her cigarette onto the road and hailed a taxi. The two of them climbed into the back seat and they told the driver to take them to the harbour. They were silent as he drove them where they needed to go, but Revy still had something on her mind. She remembered what she talked about with Dutch out on the water earlier today, about Rock, about her feelings, about how broken Revy really was.

"You didn't warn her, huh?"

"What?" Rock asked, lost in thought once more. His head had been resting on his hand.

"You didn't tell her what Hotel Moscow have planned for her and her dad," Revy reiterated. "Did you?"

"No," Rock told her simply. "I kept my promise, Revy. Don't worry."

"I won't," Revy said almost to herself.

 _I hate to break it to you, but there is no fucking Robin Hood!_

 _If there's no Robin Hood, then why don't you become Robin Hood?!_

Rock had been very different back then. He had been so full of hope, so intent on doing the right thing and saving as many people as possible. All he wanted to do was the right thing. He wasn't comfortable with killing or betraying others for personal gain. But now, he had lost all of that hope and optimism, thanks to Yukio Washimine. Now, Rock was content to let events play out however they would even if people he cared about would die. Why, then, was Revy so irritated?

Back then, she constantly berated him because he was a liability to Lagoon Company, frequently hindering their ability to get the job done. Now, despite the fact that he was the perfect 'Yes Man', an obedient employee who did what he was told and asked no questions, Revy wanted to explode, to unload all of her concerns and doubts on him. He deserved it, in her mind. But she couldn't bring herself to reveal that side of her, the side that wanted Rock to remain like he had been because it reminded her of the normal life he once had, the life he threw away. So she swallowed her feelings and quietly stewed there. Her emotions would erupt at some point, there was just no telling when or where.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Further Down The Rabbit Hole

The steel cover of the sliding peephole opened, accompanied by the loud scratching noise of grating metal. Two unfriendly eyes glanced outside at the foot of the small stairway that lead downwards from the street above.

"I don't recognise you," the man called over the sound of the wind.

"I want to talk to Konstantin."

"Fuck off if you know what's good for you." As the Albanian man went to shut the slider, the loud clang of metal reached his ears. The barrel of a gun had been shoved into the gap, forcing it to remain open.

"I'm going to talk to Konstantin, whether you like it or not." The Albanian swallowed, narrowing his eyes.

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm the Wolf. Now open the fucking door." The man inside was reluctant to oblige, especially considering the rest of the Albanian mafia resided within. They were in the middle of a meeting, clearly. Otherwise, they would not have appointed a doorman to turn away strangers. But the Desert Eagle stopping the slider from closing fully was pointed inward. If the Wolf was refused, he would just start shooting at anything and anyone. The doorman decided against risking a shootout and unlocked the door. Wolf did not wait to be ushered in and pushed the door open instead, forcing his way into the room. There were several men gathered around a square table, all of them wearing some kind of suit. The man to the far left in blue was Konstantin, the leader of this particular installation of the Albanian mafia in Roanapur. He frowned as soon as he spotted Wolf and the others at the table all turned to see him.

"I thought I told you to tell any undesirables to piss off," Konstantin said seriously in his gravelly voice. "You had one fucking job, Ditmar." The doorman looked frightened, but he didn't exactly have a choice. Had he refused the Wolf, he or some of the others at the table would be dead now. "Who the fuck is this and what does he want?"

"I want to talk to you, as it happens," Wolf told him, his arms outstretched theatrically as he slowly trotted over to the table. He grabbed the collar of the man sitting directly across from Konstantin and lifted him from his seat with minimal effort, tossing him aside. The Albanian collected himself and reached inside his suit.

"Why you fucking-!"

"Miguel." It was Konstantin who had stayed his subordinate's hand. "Don't try it."

"Smart man," Wolf praised him, wiggling his Desert Eagle from side to side. Konstantin knew that Miguel would only get himself killed if he tried to use his weapon.

"There are seven of us, Konstantin. Seven! Let's kill this fucking pidhi so we can get back to business." Konstantin laughed, but he never took his eyes from Wolf.

"It's not about the numbers, Miguel," he said with a tone of finality. The rest of them knew better to argue, even if they agreed with the ill-tempered Miguel on the floor. Wolf took a seat and propped his boots up on the table. His Desert Eagle was in his hands the whole time as he spoke. "Why don't we let this little puppy explain why he has so rudely interrupted us?"

"I'm looking for someone," Wolf started. "A man by the name of Ashur. I know he met with you recently. I need to know where he went." None of the men spoke but they kept their eyes on the assassin in an attempt to hide the fact that they had the information he was looking for. This might have worked on other criminals or cartel members but Wolf could see through their deceit right away. "You must have seen him," the assassin continued. "Black guy, dreadlocks, wears a sleeveless leather jacket. Kinda like mine, actually, only grey."

"I don't know any Ashur," Konstantin lied, producing his own gun and setting it down on the table, resting his hand on it for the duration of the conversation.

"Really? I find that hard to believe. I went to a lot of trouble to pick up the scent of that particular rabid dog and that trail led me right here. He approached one of your representatives with the hope of setting up a meeting, one you agreed to in the end. That's why he contacted Ishmael, the weapon smuggler. You wouldn't allow an unknown, a stranger no less, carry a weapon into a meeting with you. So he needed something small that he could easily conceal. After that, he told you he was looking for work. A freelancer in the market for doing dirty work for the cartels and mafias in the area, it must have sounded too good to be true, huh? No wonder you took him up on his offer."

Konstantin's level-headedness slowly faded more and more as Wolf spoke until eventually his finger began twitching on his gun and he started to sweat. It hadn't been easy to piece together all of this information, nor did any of the others Wolf spoke to survive their meetings with him, but the assassin could be incredibly resourceful when he needed to be. He had been trained as such, after all.

"I don't know who the fuck you are but I'm losing patience. If you don't have the good sense to walk out of here with your balls intact, I'm going to put a fucking bullet in your head."

"Unless I get the information I'm after, it's going to be the other way around." Wolf once more raised his gun and gestured to it warningly. "I don't know exactly what you had Ashur doing, but his talents would have come in useful. You probably stationed him as a guard or an escort somewhere. Maybe for one of your drug shipments before you have it brought into the city?" Again, there was a subtle muscle twitching in Konstantin's face that would go unnoticed by almost everyone else in the city, but Wolf spotted it. He had come to the right conclusion.

"How did-?!"

"Where is he?" Wolf snapped, interrupting the Albanian. He would give the man only one more chance after this before he would use that Desert Eagle in his hands.

"Who the fuck-"

"WHERE IS HE?!" Wolf sprung to his feet and slammed one fist down on the table before shouting that across the room. All of the men froze. Their hands were positioned inches from their coats, ready to reach for their weapons. But Konstantin did not want to risk it. He was clever enough to realise when he had been backed into a corner. It was unlikely he actually believed Wolf could survive against seven of them, but he was a businessman, a leader. He didn't want to risk losing able-bodied men, no matter how unlikely it was that they would come to harm. He needed them and if one piece of information spared them all this nuisance, he would offer it up willingly.

"Alright, Bog-Trotter. I'll tell you what you want to know. Just take a seat." Wolf grinned at that ethnic slur before falling back into the chair. Konstantin produced a cigar and lit it. "Ashur came to us looking for work, but you already knew that much. We told him we weren't interested and I threatened to kneecap him for wasting my time. Then he told me something else that piqued my interest. He offered to supply me with men for my operations, told me they could handle the wet work so my people could stay safe on the side-lines. I'd get my merchandise and he'd be shouldering the risk. It sounded promising, so I told him I'd consider it."

"What men?" Wolf asked. "Who are these people he offered you?" Konstantin puffed on his cigar, eyeing Wolf all the while.

"He said he had connections with them. A group called Hyperion. I guess they're a mercenary order. Otherwise, I don't see what use they're supposed to be." Wolf knew who they were. He also knew the connection they had to Ashur, if his suspicions turned out to be true. Hyperion had been in collusion with Wolf Pack when they first arrived in Roanapur. Back then, Ulysses interrogated their leader to find out how to track down Sif. The organisation remained mysterious to them after that, but it was safe to say they were supplying Wolf Pack with equipment, troops and training. That confirmed the conclusion Wolf had already come to; Ashur was once a loyal follower of Sif, a member of Wolf Pack. That was why he wanted Wolf dead. He must have known the assassin left and eventually killed Sif.

"You still haven't told me where Ashur is," Wolf reminded the Albanian. Konstantin's confidence wavered a little before he shoved the cigar into his mouth and smirked.

"You want him? He's all yours. If working with him is going to bring more people like you up to my doorstep, I'd rather not have to deal with the trouble. There's an old manor far north of the city. It used to be a farmhouse, but it's since become one of our outposts. We use it mostly for storage, now. I instructed Ashur to head there and wait for my orders."

"Where is the manor?" Wolf asked, clenching his jaw.

"You'll have to follow the Mekong River about halfway to Laos. You should see the manor from the river."

"Is there anyone else there?"

"None of my people followed him," Konstantin claimed. Wolf wasn't sure if he was lying or not. If it was a bluff, it was a good one. "Unless he's already had these Hyperion warmongers sent in to meet him, he should be alone. There, that's the information you wanted so badly. Now, get the fuck out. I've got shit to do, dickhead." Wolf slowly placed his feet flat on the ground and rose from the seat, glancing around him to make sure he could spot every one of the men in here. The doorman was the furthest away. He would be carrying a weapon like the rest of them, considering his job was to turn people away. Miguel was still on the ground, but he was no longer reaching inside his jacket. It would take him a moment to react. The four men at the table had started smoking and drinking, meaning their hands were occupied. They, too, would take a minute to produce their firearms, longer than Miguel would need. Konstantin still had his gun on the table, his hand resting on it threateningly. He would need to be the first one.

"Thanks for the info," Wolf told him. "I got what I came for, that's all that matters. I don't need you anymore." He pointed his Desert Eagle forward and fired. The shot crunched into Konstantin's face and out through the back of his mangled head, splattering blood, bone and pieces of flesh across the wall behind him. The jaws of the other men all fell open as they moved to reach for their weapons. Wolf turned his gun on the doorman, next, using a single shot again to kill him. Then it was Miguel's turn to die. He fell to the ground with a meaty thump before he could even get his fingers around the gun inside his coat. Enough time had passed for the rest to ready their weapons and begin firing at Wolf, meaning he would need to make sure they did not get the chance to retaliate. He lifted his left leg high off the ground and launched it into the face of closest of the two men to his left. He was sent backwards into the second man and they both fell to the ground, momentarily incapacitated. Then, Wolf gunned down the two men to his right less than a second before they could raise their guns. After that, the remaining two who had been downed seconds before were mercilessly slaughtered as they tried to crawl to the door, the realisation that they were doomed sweeping over them. And so it was done, quick and messy. Wolf did not care about what he had just done. It was almost reflexive, like it hadn't even been him pulling the trigger. It came so naturally and he watched it all unfold before his eyes feeling no remorse or emotion. He had the location of Ashur. It would not take long to pick up the scent once more.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: The Waters Of Life

 _Kill the past, bury its remains as deep down as you can. That's the only way to make sure it can never control you._

 _I've got a plan in place. I'm the Alpha, you, the Omega._

 _You're the only one, the best of the bunch. The rest of them, they're just grunts. But you really are something special._

 _You can't have a functional command without a structure, can you? Even the priests preach about the Holy Trinity. Three unique pieces of the same idea, working together to further their goals. Now that speaks to me._

 _I poured a lot of resources into you. I hope you know that._

It had been a long time since Wolf heard those words, but he could still hear Sif's voice speaking them to him sometimes. They were all disconnected, unrelated sentences with no real meaning but they did come back to him on occasion. She had been controlling him. Everything he did, he did for her and her Wolf Pack, because she had brainwashed him into acting as a loyal servant of her cause. After he killed her, it felt like he had been set free, like he could finally bury the past, just like she would have wanted. But he never could quite get her out of his head. She still spoke her poisonous words to him on the darkest nights, the piece of her inside him refusing to budge no matter how hard he tried to kill it. And lately, it felt like her grip on him was tightening that much more than ever before. He had been a loner, a solo assassin for the longest time, using the things he learned from his old master to keep himself alive. But the Wolf that stood in the trees at the edge of the Mekong River right now was far more reminiscent of that emotionless killing machine that Sif had fashioned him into during his time as her right hand. And some part of him was enjoying it all. The smell of blood, the power he had over those he killed, the newfound energy and adrenaline that coursed through him as he relentlessly beat down his enemies…it was all intoxicating.

He was staring right at the manor Konstantin mentioned. It was a large two-story building, the signs of renovation apparent in the sun. It had clearly been smaller at one point. The Albanian mafia may well have been responsible for adding on to the structure to serve their needs. Perhaps Konstantin himself frequented the building. It was not uncommon for leaders of cartels or mafias to own large country homes in the middle of nowhere, isolated refuges they could escape to every now and then. But regardless of what it had been, it now served as Ashur's sanctuary. He was in there somewhere, and Wolf was coming for him. The assassin readied his gun and made his way inside. The door was unlocked, but there were no soldiers waiting for him, no mercenaries. Ashur hadn't been in contact with Hyperion, by the looks of things. He was here alone. Wolf smiled at that thought. Nothing about the interior of the building suggested Ashur was even here, but Wolf was certain he would find his quarry. That scent filled his nose as he slowly ascended the stairway, the scent of blood and smoke that accompanied the stray wolf taking refuge here. Wolf's footsteps caused several creaking noises, but he did not care. This was the end of the trail, the place where one of them would meet their end. There was no reason for Ashur to run now, he was cornered.

As the assassin reached the top of the stairs, he found himself at the end of a long corridor that ran the full length of the building. He was bordered on the right by a series of rooms and the left by windows that looked down below at the yard between the building and the Mekong River. It was still daytime but the sun would set soon enough and its light currently illuminating the house would be extinguished to be replaced by shadows. That was when Wolf would end it. That was when Ashur would be slaughtered like an animal. Wolf pursed his lips and began whistling as he very slowly walked the length of the corridor, gradually making his way to the other end. As he neared the first doorway to his right, he raised his Desert Eagle and kept it trained on the room as he moved just in case. He would repeat this action with the next few rooms, despite the fact that they were all empty. He could tell his target was at the far end of the corridor, that was where the stench was coming from.

After he passed the third room, the second floor opened up to his right into a small hallway. There was nothing noteworthy in it, but it would provide decent cover if Ashur started shooting. On that note, Wolf decided to stop moving. If he continued down the corridor, he would be defenceless. True, his reflexes were exceptional and he was no stranger to one-on-one gunfights, but he wanted to see this showdown through to the end. He wanted to survive long enough to kill Ashur himself. He stopped moving completely and ceased his whistling before pointing the Desert Eagle forward. There was another staircase at the end and beside it, a small alcove just about big enough for an average-sized man to hide in. Wolf inhaled deeply. He could get his mark's scent far more intensely, now. Ashur was just ahead, in the alcove waiting to strike. But he wouldn't get the chance.

"Don't make this easy on me, Ashur," Wolf called, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the man he was here to kill. "I don't want to keep walking and find you fucking hiding in a wardrobe. Otherwise, I might have to huff and puff and blow it the fuck down. Then I'm going to tear your goddamn guts out. How does that sound?" Ashur popped out from the alcove and raised his AMT Automag III. Wolf was too quick, ducking behind the corner to his right and planting his back against the wall. The shot from Ashur's gun crunched into the far wall behind the staircase Wolf had come up.

"This is a nice surprise," said Ashur from his hiding spot once more. The house was deathly quiet. They could hear every word the other one was saying. "I thought I'd have to track you down in Roanapur when I was ready to finish the job. Thanks for making this a piece of cake."

"I wouldn't start sucking my own dick just get, Assface. Only one of us is getting out of this place alive. And here's a heads-up, it sure as shit is not gonna be you."

"Well, you don't lack for confidence," Ashur goaded him. "There's something different about you. You're not the same person you were in Venezuela, are you? Something's changed." Wolf pulled back his mouth in what could only be described as a growl while Ashur continued his verbal abuse. "Yeah. Oh, boy, this is too good. I can smell it on you. You're not that high and mighty assassin, you're a real wolf, now. And I'm going to neuter you just like any other animal that acts up and causes trouble." Wolf angled his arm around the corner and emptied the clip of his Desert Eagle. It was a pointless display, but it made him feel better. He reloaded instantly. "I'm sure that helped you through whatever storm is brewing in that fucked up head of yours, but you ain't gonna hit shit if you don't aim properly. Didn't you learn anything in the early days?"

"I learned enough," Wolf told him. "I learned how to take jackasses like you apart piece by piece without breaking a sweat. But you know that, don't you? Because we had the same master, you and I. The same head bitch giving us our orders."

"I see something sunk in when I was feeding you fistfuls in that estate. How's that eye, by the way? Hope it doesn't mess with you too much. I'd hate for you to go to all this trouble to find me only to get your ass handed to you because you couldn't see shit."

"Are you finished?!" Wolf snarled. "I'd rather tear your throat out now, if that's alright."

"A little tense, I see," Ashur retorted. "Fine, then. You'll get your chance, don't worry. But we were both dogs of war under the rule of the same pack leader. Aren't you at all curious about that? Don't you have questions?" He might have, at one point. There may have been a time when Wolf would have come out here in search of answers instead of death. But his demons had sunk their teeth into his soul too much for that. His bloodlust was insatiable, now, the trail of bodies left in his wake along the path to this moment evidence of the animal that possessed him. He was here to kill the past, to bury it so it could never control him. His old lessons were coming back to manipulate his actions, even now. He wanted to put a stop to Sif's hold on him for good. And the only way to do that was to kill Ashur. Any connection to Wolf Pack needed to be severed for the assassin to have any hope of moving on.

That was when Wolf remembered there had been another. During the period of time when Hunter Woods attempted to eliminate Hotel Moscow and the Hong Kong Triad, he had called in a pair of assassins to kill Balalaika and Chang. One of them had been a former member of Wolf Pack, a second of Sif's 'prototypes' for her renewed organisation. Until that point, Wolf had been convinced he was the only one, the sole right hand of Sif that she poured outlandish resources and training into. But that idea had been proven false by Andromeda's existence. Then it hit Wolf.

"You were like me, weren't you?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him for just a moment. The evidence pointed to another revelation for Wolf, one only Ashur could confirm or deny. "She told you she was the Alpha and you the Omega. Probably had you believing you were the one and only person she spent as much time and money on to make sure you were the perfect killing machine."

"Yeah, she did," Ashur confirmed. "But I found out after she died that wasn't the case. When the grunts left after news of her death reached us, I spent a lot of time in her office. There was a lot of stuff to go through. I found a bunch of weird shit. You wanna know the most interesting thing, though?" Wolf's appetite for death could wait while he learned a little bit more about his own past, about the people responsible for who he had become. He needed to hear this.

"Tell me."

"We were the Trinity, Wolf. You, me, Andromeda…you know about her?"

"Hell yes, I do."

"Sif had us all thinking we were the only ones. I'm not sure why, but there you go. We were her silencers, her personal agents of death. She was going to use us to take down empires. But you had to go and put a stop to all of that, huh?" Wolf knew his purpose would have been killing enemies of Wolf Pack to protect their operations, but he never imagined there had been two others just like him with the same level of training. Not only that, but if Ashur knew she had been lying to him, why did he seem to hold a grudge against Wolf for killing her?

"I don't get you," Wolf responded loudly. His finger was twitching beside the trigger of his gun, but he had one last inquiry for the man whose life he was about to end. "You found her dirty little secret. She was playing us all and you found out about it. The way I see it, you should be fucking thanking me."

"That's where you're wrong," Ashur corrected him. "You left because you weren't willing to do what she was asking of you. You didn't want to get your hands dirty intercepting the property of other criminals because it sounded just a teensy bit too fucking dangerous for you. But I never left the Pack. I've always been one of hers. And I went to a lot of trouble to find the man responsible for destroying the empire Sif was building for us. Now that I've got you here, I can finally end things. Get your ass in gear, piss stain. Because I ain't gonna hold back, here."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Another Blood Trail

Dutch shut the door behind him as he entered the apartment but the others did not pay him any notice.

"That didn't take long," Revy groaned from her position on the couch, one hand behind her head and the other holding a magazine above her. To her knowledge, Dutch had just been out running a personal errand. "Anything interesting happening?"

"We just got back from Hong Kong and you're asking me if I have another job lined up?"

"I could use the time off, if I'm honest with ya Dutch," she told him. "Six fucking days. I'd be happy if I never had to look at the ocean again."

"You don't mean that," Rock told her from his seat at the other end of the room. He was looking through some miscellaneous financial paperwork of Lagoon's while Benny typed away on his laptop in one of the armchairs. They all came to attention when they heard a soft thud. Dutch had dropped a duffle bag down on the ground. He gestured to it with one hand, a smile on his face.

"Balalaika came through after all," he told them. They hadn't been expecting her to follow through with their payment until tomorrow, but it seems Dutch had lied about that. It was a welcome surprise. Revy, in particular, instantly dropped the magazine and propped herself up on one elbow.

"Is that-"

"Yep. Sixty thousand bucks, split four ways. I doubt any of you can complain about that."

"I'm sure if you give her enough time, Revy will try and squeeze more out of Miss Balalaika," Benny joked. Revy shot him a disgruntled look.

"Fuck you, Benny! Sis always comes through with the big bucks. Way I see it, fifteen grand each is plenty for the little delivery we pulled off." She hopped off the couch and went to the bag, unzipping it. There were four smaller bags inside it, one for each of them. That was thoughtful of Balalaika. "And packaged for our convenience? She really knows how to pull the right strings with us."

"We've been doing this a long time," Dutch reminded her. "She knows the deal. Besides, we did an important job for her, otherwise she wouldn't have been paying this much in the first place. It makes sense that she'd pull out all the stops."

"Yeah, well, you can thank her for me next time you see her," Revy told him, grabbing a handful of dollar bills and holding them up to the light. Dutch dropped each of their own bags beside them before depositing his own in his room. When he came back out, he removed his sleeveless jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before reaching for the fridge. Considering they all had some time off where they wouldn't actively be looking for jobs, they might as well relax with a few beers. That was when the phone rang.

"Rock, you want to get that?" Dutch called across the room. The Japanese man looked up from his papers as if deciding whether or not he actually did want to get the phone. He decided against pointlessly refusing and inciting Dutch's anger, rising from the seat and grabbing the phone from the wall.

"Lagoon Company," he answered. Considering they weren't on business time, that was not necessary but Rock assumed it was a potential client calling. Nobody else really used this number for anything else.

"Mister Rock?"

"Is that…Garcia Lovelace?" The other three stopped what they were doing and looked straight at Rock.

"It is," the boy said on the other side. "I know you probably didn't expect to hear from me, but I was wondering if you could help me."

"Help you?" Rock said aloud for the others. "Are you hiring us for a job, Garcia?"

"Please, I'd rather we do this in person. Do you remember the Sankanpalace? Where I stayed before?"

"I remember," Rock told him. "Yeah, I know where it is."

"I'm staying in the same room," Garcia told him. "Come as soon as you can." Rock placed the phone back on the wall. When he faced the others, they all looked about ready to erupt.

"If he's looking for us to solve more of his mess, you can tell him to go fuck himself," Revy spat. "That little brat has been nothing but a pain in our collective asses from the moment we were hired to take him here." Dutch laid down his can of beer on the table and put his jacket back on.

"Well, shit. And I was all set to put my feet up."

"You're not saying we're going over there?" Revy asked him, coming to her feet.

"Well, if he is offering a job, we might as well check it out," Dutch explained. "I don't like this any more than you do, but we can't just turn him down right off the bat. Hell, maybe I'm going soft and I just want to see what he wants."

"You've lost your fucking mind," Revy grumbled, folding her arms. "Remember the last couple of jobs we've done for that kid? You remember the soldiers, Dutch? That's one hurricane of shit I'd rather not relive."

"I agree," Dutch told her. "I'm just suggesting we find out what it is he wants. If it turns out he's gotten himself into a situation like the one with the maid, we back off and leave him to it." Revy did not seem convinced. Then again, she was never eager to help Garcia. The only thing about him that swayed her interests was his money and even then, she was not overly enthusiastic.

"Fine," she relented. "But if I find out that bitch is going on another rampage with one fucking arm, she's gonna lose a lot more when I'm through with her." They all piled into the car and headed for the hotel the Lovelaces were staying at. Once they headed inside the elevator and made their way to the room, Dutch knocked on the door. It was Pius who answered.

"Thanks for coming," he told them. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to help us."

"Yeah, yeah," Revy said as she pushed passed him into the room. Garcia and Fabiola both stood at the other side of the room behind a table. "Enough of the chatter, Padre. Why don't we let the little lord explain why he called us out here during our fucking down time?!"

"Forgive me," Garcia began solemnly. "But I didn't know who else to call upon. There is a situation I need your assistance with." Rock came forward then in an attempt to interrupt anything Revy might say. He would rather handle this than let her say whatever colourful words and expressions came to mind first.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" he asked. Garcia nodded in agreement and cleared his throat.

"Of course. We came back here so we could remain hidden from our enemies. The estate is not safe anymore, the people who want Roberta dead know where it is. But she did not stay with us when we arrived." That struck them as odd right away. Roberta and Garcia seemed joined at the hip ever since the situation with the Grey Fox team had been resolved. It was unlikely Garcia would willingly let her out of his sight, especially in this city. Not only was she frightfully ill-equipped to defend herself, but there were many here who considered themselves enemies of the Bloodhound of Florencia.

"That seems unwise," Rock told the boy gently. "Where was she staying?"

"She returned to the Wolf's apartment, but I fear she has come to harm."

"Why?"

"She's no longer in the city," Pius explained. "I went to the apartment to bring her back here as we discussed what our next plan was. We couldn't just wait around for our enemies to find us, after all. But she was nowhere to be found."

"Over the last few days, Pius has been tracking down leads," Garcia went on. "It wasn't easy, but we think we know where she's headed."

"Get to the fucking point, kid," Revy snapped. "It's bad enough that you brought us here, but now you waste our time with this lame-ass story? Fuck me." Fabiola looked poised to argue, but Garcia held up a hand to silence her.

"It's alright, Fabiola." He turned his attention to Lagoon Company once again. "We think she's headed north, along the Mekong River. There's an old clearing in the woods where a building was erected long ago. I think it used to serve as a farmhouse but now it's used by cartels and drug traffickers." They were all put on edge by the notion of heading up the Mekong River again, even Garcia. Considering it probably brought back memories of the last time, when Roberta was hunting down the Americans, that was not surprising.

"Not that we don't want to jump at the chance to relive the past," Dutch began, "but wouldn't the Wolf be more suited to this? Your maid was staying at his apartment, after all. Hasn't he offered to help?" Pius exchanged a look with Garcia.

"The Wolf is missing as well," the priest told them. That was genuinely surprising. "I think Roberta has gone after him. I had to follow a trail of bodies to get the information that pointed to Roberta's next location. She wasn't the one who killed them. She couldn't have done that."

"You think she's trying to stop Wolf from going on some killing spree?" Benny asked.

"The spree has already been gone on," Garcia said firmly. "Roberta has gone after him to make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

"The fuck is Wolfy doing?" Revy growled. "He ain't never had it out for anyone in this city before. Now, all of a sudden he's leaving bodies behind him like it's his fucking day job." Garcia must have noticed Rock's thoughtful expression.

"Mister Rock. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking Wolf is gone after Ashur," he answered, placing one hand on his chin as he spoke. "I think he wanted to settle the score and Roberta wants to stop him before he gets himself hurt." The Lovelaces nodded in agreement. Clearly, that was their theory as well. "That means Ashur is in the city."

"Or at least he was," Pius corrected him. "Now, it looks like he's hiding out in the country."

"So, what do you say?" Garcia asked. "Will you help us? Will you help me get Roberta back? I'm worried that she'll come to harm out there by herself. If she doesn't catch up to Wolf in time…" It was foolish of Roberta to go after the assassin at all. She was risking her own safety just to find him. Rock didn't voice these thoughts to Garcia, of course, but there was no denying how reckless the maid's actions were.

"If you're willing to pay, then I guess we have no reason to refuse," Dutch told them. They seemed pleased by that, though Revy certainly looked like she would rather leave this alone. Still, she had gone after Wolf once before when a similar situation arose and he went missing in the countryside. Something within her must have been eager to find him. But overall, she did not particularly want to go along with this. Dutch, too, was less than thrilled about revisiting a place he was vocal about disliking. Still, it was done now.

"I'll handle the payment," Pius told them. "Don't worry about a thing. As long as you get us there safely, we can put a stop to whatever is going on out there."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Cry Wolf

Wolf was well-trained. His unarmed combat style had been perfected over the course of years and his savagery was in check so it would not control him but not so much that he could not unleash his rage to come out on top in a fight. But none of that mattered here. Were he fighting anyone else, he could show them how dangerous he really was. But Ashur was the very same. They had been trained the exact same way by the exact same person. And despite Wolf's determination, Ashur was winning. Every punch sent his way was blocked, deflected or dodged altogether while he focused every right hook on Wolf's already injured eye. That was clever. And it seemed to be working. Each punch seemed to repel the assassin more every time. Not only was he being more defensive now but he was blatantly neglecting to try and block his opponent's attacks. If he didn't turn this around soon, that eye socket was going to cave in and do a lot more damage.

Both men had managed to disarm one another. During the beginning of the fight, they ran around both floors of the building firing at one another relentlessly. The walls were riddled with holes and almost every window had been smashed. But it didn't take long for them to run into one another. After that, they made sure to separate the other man from his gun. Now, it was a fierce display of two vicious killers beating one another with their bare hands. Ashur jabbed Wolf's injured eye once more, causing the assassin to take another step backwards. He would have himself pinned against the wall soon. While both men seemed to be equally matched, Ashur boasted improved speed. Each movement was incredibly swift, yet precise. On top of that, Wolf's eye served as a handicap. His vision was blurry and as a result of that, his reactions were delayed. He needed to act here.

"I was expecting a bit more from Sif's best and brightest," Ashur said mockingly as he advanced on his opponent, arms outstretched. There was a hint of envy in his voice. It was subtle, but there nonetheless. "You've barely gotten a hit in on me. And here I heard you were actually something to fear. Good to know you ain't shit after all."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Wolf warned him, gritting his teeth and slowly moving backwards to give himself enough space to anticipate an attack. That was Ashur's weakness. Up close, he could really get in and punish that eye. But at any kind of distance, his hits would be too telegraphed to land without interruption. In other words, unless Ashur was right on top of his foe, Wolf would see the punches coming. "You haven't knocked me, have you? You might think you're hot shit, but I can take the punishment. It's going to take more than a few love taps to put me down." Ashur laughed.

"I hope so," he said. "I was expecting a real challenge. Not like Venezuela. You were on your fucking knees, helpless and forced to just sit there while I beat the shit out of you. I just wanted you dead. But this? Hell, this is a lot more fun. I should have done this in the Lovelace estate. That way, I could have torn you to pieces and made the boy and his family fucking watch." His wrist twitched as he prepared to launch his arm forward for a punch. He did not pull back his arm and put his full weight behind it like a lot of people. Instead, his arms shot straight up from his sides in one precise motion. When aimed correctly, those hits did serious damage. But with the space between the two fighters, Wolf noticed the hit coming. He shot his own right hand into Ashur's forearm as the meaty fist came towards Wolf's face. It slammed into the wall behind Wolf instead. That was the opportunity to retaliate.

He sent Ashur reeling with a very heavy right hook to the face, followed by a measured body shot, then a kick to the ankle that forced Ashur to his knees. After that, it was punch after punch after punch until Ashur's face was covered in blood. Every attempt to block the incoming attacks was avoided by Wolf feigning a hit from one direction while actually following through from the other. When Ashur went to block his left side, he was struck from the right and vice versa. By the time he caught onto this, Wolf had switched it up again so that his attacks never managed to be blocked. One more punch that clocked Ashur right on the nose sent him flying backwards until he slammed against one of the only windows remaining intact. It cracked with the force of his body against it.

"What do you have to say now?" Wolf asked him after catching his breath. They were both tired, now, but they could sense the fight was coming to a close. A winner would emerge victorious soon. "Nothing. Because you know damn well how dangerous I can be when I'm pissed off. You made a serious mistake crossing me, Ashur. So now…I'm going to beat the holy fuck out of you. And then I'm going to hang your body from one of the trees outside." Ashur braced himself against the window as he steadied his breath. He wiped the blood away from his face and grinned.

"Fuck you," he wheezed. "You really think this proves anything? Face it, Wolf. You're not leaving this house alive. If it takes all day, I will have that head of yours. I can keep going all night." Wolf watched him for a few moments, then he hung his head and shut his eyes for just a moment.

"I should warn you…I haven't been feeling quite myself recently. This is not going to end well for you. I can't be stopped now. It's too late." Ashur listened to every word, but once the assassin stopped speaking he heard the noise of Ashur's boots against the floor. He was seizing the opportunity to attack. That was when Wolf struck.

(*)

This was the place, Roberta was certain of it. She had been hard at work trying to pin down the Wolf's location. Now, she was finally here. She remembered the trail of bodies she had to follow, the mangled corpses of those Wolf had seen fit to kill once he had gotten information from them. Roberta reached one hand out from beneath her robe and pulled up her hood as she watched the building for any sign of Wolf, or even Ashur. When she decided to come out here, she knew the risk involved, especially considering there were many in Roanapur who would recognise her. Because of that, she acquired a large robe, one that concealed her entire body beneath its dark brown fabric. While she had her doubts about anyone recognising her just from the fact that she was missing limbs, she did not want to take any chances. She just hoped she wasn't too late. But she had heard the gunfire as she approached from the woods, gunfire that ceased almost ten minutes ago now. She needed to make her way inside and see what was left of the two men, if anything at all. That thought made her concerned and the concern brought with it images of the men in her dreams, the men who taunted her and told her that anything that happened to the Wolf would be her fault.

She hadn't taken a weapon with her, not this time. Truthfully, she did not want to carry one. That might have been foolish, but she had not intended to kill anyone. She had grown weary of killing during her time in Roanapur and she knew how much it hurt Garcia every time she took up weapons again. Then again, if Ashur was the one who emerged from the house, she may need a weapon of some kind to dispatch him. The thought caused a range of conflicting emotions to wash over her, feelings of both despair and excitement, of pain and pleasure. She tried to ignore that implication within her that suggested she would enjoy using a weapon again, but its influence was powerful. The man's words came to her again as she clutched the front of her head. _You wanted to kill those men, Rosarita. It's who you are. You were a bloodhound,_ the _Bloodhound. But now you're just a stray wolf. That's all you'll ever be._

There was a crashing noise from the building that caught Roberta's attention. She looked up but none of the windows had been smashed, at least not recently. Most of them were in pieces, but Roberta suspected the gunfire was the cause of that. The sound from only moments ago was more like something being thrown through glass, perhaps a person. Nothing happened for quite a while, there was only silence. But that did not last forever. Roberta focused her gaze on the doorway as a silhouette appeared. The sun was low in the sky and would set soon, making it difficult for her to make out who it was up ahead. Then, the man emerged, holding his Desert Eagle in one hand. Relief spread through Roberta at the revelation that the Wolf was unharmed, for the most part. Still, he looked different. Not only was his outfit unfamiliar, but his expression, his body language, his eyes. Those terrible, fierce eyes. Something was wrong.

Roberta was currently concealed by both the shadows of the trees around her and the underbrush. The assassin had not seen her yet. He started tapping the barrel of the Desert Eagle off of his forehead lightly before turning to face the building. Clearly, he was angry about something, but it was an unpredictable anger. Roberta hoped he didn't do anything foolish. He raised the weapon upwards until it was parallel with his head. For a second, Roberta had a vision of the assassin angling the weapon to the left and planting it against his own temple. But instead, he pointed it forward, at the house. He was obviously going to start shooting in an attempt to relieve some of his stress.

Roberta decided it was time to put an end to this. It had gone on long enough. She started to step out from the foliage. Her foot must have caught on something. The noise did not go unnoticed by the assassin. He whipped around quick as a flash and let off a single shot. The speed with which he used the weapon was remarkable, but his aim was not. That was fortunate for Roberta. The bullet crunched through her prosthetic leg. The force of the shot twirled her on her feet and she landed with a thump on her right side, facing out towards the river. If the assassin had taken more time to aim, he may well have killed her. The force of both the shot and the fall incapacitated Roberta. There was little air in her lungs so she could not speak. Her leg, too, had been split in half by the shot, meaning any attempt to rise to her feet would fail. She could hear footsteps, the Wolf approaching her. In his current state, he was very dangerous. He was going to kill her. Roberta could not move. She was far too weak from both the journey here and the fall. All her energy seemed to leave her at once. Wolf was almost upon her, now. His footsteps became louder and louder until finally, he raised one booted foot and planted it against the side of her hooded head, pressing it into the ground. She grunted in pain.

"I don't know who you are," Wolf said quietly. "But you caught me at a very bad time. I'll have to get back to you later. I do apologise for this…" She heard the leather of his jacket squeak softly. He was raising his gun to point it at her head. "…but I'm going to have to cut this short. And…I hope you enjoy yourself."

"WOLFY!" The assassin stopped in his tracks when he heard the voice. He hadn't noticed the torpedo boat, nor had he heard the engine. It pulled up by the bank just feet in front of him. Lagoon Company had come after him, by the looks of things. Revy hopped the gap between the Lagoon and solid land, taking her Cutlasses in her hands and aiming one of them forward. It was then that Wolf spotted Pius, Rock, Garcia and Fabiola on the boat. They were watching intently. As the Lovelaces took in the situation before them, their jaws both dropped and they became panicked.

"What are-!"

"Can it, Garcia," Revy spat. "What the hell are you doing, Wolfy? We heard you had yourself a real party back in Roanapur. Any particular reason you're going around gunning down random assholes or are you just into that shit now?"

"What are you doing here?" Wolf asked her, Roberta's eye forced itself open and she spotted Revy. Her gaze instantly moved to Garcia and Fabiola and she let out a weak moan in an attempt to communicate with them.

"The little lord asked for us personally. Told us he had a job for us, a job that had us tailing your deranged ass all the way up here. And a hell of a fucking job it was."

"Piss off, Revy. I've got shit to do." Revy's mouth pulled back and she almost snarled like a dog. But she restrained herself just enough to calmly get her next words out.

"Why don't you take a closer look at that poor bitch on the ground, Wolfy?" The assassin frowned, clearly confused. "You didn't think Garcia had us out here looking for you, did ya?" Wolf considered the situation for a second before reaching down with his free hand and grabbing the fabric of the hood. With one gentle motion, he pulled it back and revealed the face of Roberta. And that was the moment it all shattered. Wolf was watching the situation unfold as if from a distance as his body crumbled into pieces and everything he had done to get to this moment, this place, all hit him like a truck. The Desert Eagle slipped from his fingers to land in the dirt.

"Roberta…" he whispered, removing his foot from her head.

"Yeah," Revy told him, her Cutlass still trained on him but her expression more relaxed. "I don't know what hurricane is brewing inside ya, Wolfy, but you really fucked up here. Just lucky we got here when we did. I don't think the little lord wold be paying us if you'd blown his pretty little maid's brains out. Now get the fuck on the boat." She finally holstered her weapons and jumped back across to the Lagoon. Wolf took a few seconds to collect himself. When he did, he started to reach down to Roberta, intent on carrying her onto the boat himself in some desire to start what would be a long road to redemption.

"No!" Garcia's voice roared across at the assassin, stopping him dead. The boy and Fabiola came across and began to help Roberta to her feet. "Roberta is our family. We can manage all by ourselves. You don't touch her." With their help, Roberta managed to climb aboard and Wolf was left there with the damage he had done. He snatched his Desert Eagle up from the ground and holstered it before shamefully making his way onto the boat.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Purgatory

As Wolf made his way over to the Black Lagoon, the others all headed inside to prepare for the journey home. All of them, except for Pius. He remained there, his expression indicating that he had a lot to say to the assassin. His words would not be kind, giving how much he cared about Roberta. Wolf stood at the edge of the boat, his eyes on the house. Ashur had gotten away. He retrieved his gun from the ground while Wolf had been speaking in an attempt to kill his opponent. After Wolf kicked him through the window, he fell from the second story but he managed to flee into the woods behind the house. But Wolf did not care nearly as much as he had moments earlier. The realisation that he had almost killed Roberta, that he would have been a danger to the rest of them if they were unlucky enough to cross his path, it all thundered inside him like a storm.

"You've really got nothing to say?" Pius asked from behind him. "After everything, you're just going to stand there in silence. Fine, then. I'll speak. And you _will_ listen. You endangered the life of Master Garcia by forcing him to hire Lagoon Company. You put us all at risk when Roberta came looking for you. And you almost pulled the trigger a few minutes ago. Must be nice to be so empty inside. Just like the rest of the soulless killers in that accursed city. That purgatorial prison. If you have a heart, Wolf, it must be as black as coal. Makes life easy, I imagine, not really caring if people live or die. Well…I hope you're happy with yourself. Because you really are one of the walking dead now." With that, he turned to go. But he didn't get very far.

"I was a normal person once," Wolf said solemnly. Pius halted. "I was just a regular guy without a care in the world. Unforeseen circumstances forced me onto the streets. That's when _she_ found me. She took me in, kept me fed and warm. Offered me sanctuary. And the only thing she wanted in return was my service. Told me I'd have to do some morally questionable things. Sure, why not, I thought to myself. At that point, I'd lost faith just enough to compromise my own moral convictions. I agreed. It wasn't a seamless transition, I'll tell you that. It wasn't easy at the beginning. But eventually, I got used to it. Hell, I even started to like it." Neither of them had noticed Fabiola emerge from inside, but she came to a stop when she heard the assassin speaking.

"I wasn't born into this, not like the rest of them. I'm not like Revy or Roberta. I was thrown head first into the darkness and forced to make my own way. I didn't grow up wading through the shit like the others. But it still changed me. I'm a bit like Rock, in that respect. I can tell by looking at him every day that he's not cut out for this. He wasn't born into a life of crime. He didn't find his path here and grow into the role. He's lost, like someone dragged him here against his will. But he doesn't seem to want to go back, does he? He's content to stay here and play pirate for the rest of his life, or at least that's how it looks to me." Pius sighed deeply as he took in the killer's words. He was a priest, after all, and this was as good confession as he would get from the Wolf.

"I hate that person I was before. He was a pussy. I don't want to go back to being that guy. Rock seems to have forgotten about his past. It's like he fucking buried it in the darkest corner of his mind just to get away from it. But there's one difference between me and Rocky Boy. Now that I'm here, I'm enjoying the shit out of it. This is where I want to be, where I belong. Rock's pretending his world hasn't crumbled down around him just so he can cope. But whether I was born into this or not, I've come to thrive here. You think about that the next time you ask me about my sins."

Pius thought about retaliating, arguing against the assassin for one of many reasons. But he didn't have the energy to get into this now. And truthfully, the assassin had given Pius a lot of information to work with there, too much to sift through in one conversation. So he left it alone and headed inside to find Dutch. Fabiola lingered for a moment before deciding to join her family once more. She found Garcia in the forward cabin kneeling beside Roberta, bedridden. The boy looked up from his maid. His expression gave it away immediately, he was plagued by a plethora of emotions, the chief among them anger and sadness.

"He was going to kill her, Fabiola," he said, his voice shaky. Roberta had been close to death before, but this was different. Had they arrived a minute later, Wolf would have ended her life and they would have been left without one of the most beloved members of their family. It was some kind of tragic irony that one of their allies, someone who cared about Roberta immensely, was the one who had pinned her to the ground with his foot. The position she had been in was humiliating. That only added to the cruelty of the situation for Garcia. He placed his hand over Roberta's and their fingers intertwined. She was not conscious, but Garcia just felt the need to hold her, to make sure she was still there. "We let that man into our home. We trusted him, Fabiola. And he nearly took my Roberta from me. He's just like the rest of them. He belongs in that city." The harshness of Garcia's words caused Fabiola to flinch. She understood, naturally, and even agreed to an extent. But something was clearly different about her. She had always been the one to distrust Wolf, to inwardly protest to the fact that they allowed him to interact with them at all. And yet, now that her feelings had been justified by Wolf's actions, she seemed hesitant to judge him. She clearly wanted to say something, but she did not want to upset Garcia any further.

"Young Master, perhaps the situation is not so simple," she ventured. Garcia looked at her with a mix of confusion and irritation. But he respected Fabiola. He would hear her out, for now.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember when Roberta went missing? When she went after the Americans?"

"I do," the boy answered. He remembered what happened in Roanapur all too well. The images of some of the things he had seen were burned into his mind. "We were lucky to get her back."

"She was searching for revenge, Master Garcia," Fabiola continued. "As was the Wolf. Revenge against Ashur for…doing what he did. And for forcing his way into our home. Forgive me if it is too bold to say, but that man is not so different from our Roberta. They were both plagued by their pasts, weren't they? Roberta took up arms again like she once had in an attempt to enact what she saw as justice. Perhaps the same can be said for Mister Wolf." It was strange to see Fabiola vouch for the assassin, stranger still for her to compare him to Roberta. But Garcia was not convinced, nor would he be. His opinion of the Wolf had been destroyed completely. "All I'm saying is, we found it in our hearts to forgive Roberta for her sins. And in doing so, we allowed her to find peace."

"With Roberta, there was nothing to forgive," Garcia told her. "And she could never have peace. Why not?"

"Um…"

"Because the Wolf took her from me time and time again. Don't you see, Fabiola? It's been clear as day the whole time. We should never have trusted the Wolf. We would have been better off on our own."

(*)

"He snapped out of it."

"What?" asked Revy, her feet propped up on the bed she was on and a cigarette in her hand.

"He snapped out of it," Rock repeated, standing by the wall. He was deep in thought. "When he saw who it was, when he realised it was Roberta…he stopped."

"Of course he fucking did," Revy told him. "He looks at her the same way her 'Young Master' does-with those big fucking puppy dog eyes. If he didn't have blood on his hands, he'd probably have fucking proposed to her by now."

"But why?" Rock asked. He knew there was more to it that they didn't know. It didn't add up. "Why now? What was wrong with him that it took realising he'd just shot Roberta to bring him back?"

"It's my fault."

"Huh?" Revy grunted. They both came to attention when they heard the voice. It had come from the doorway. Within a few seconds, Roberta appeared, leaning on Garcia's shoulder for support. The maid had removed her robe and now wore her usual combat gear. It was strange to see her prosthetic leg in such a damaged state. They entered the room slowly and came to a stop a few feet from the foot of the bed.

"I spoke to Wolf before he left," Roberta told them. "I told him what Ashur said, about the woman who trained him. That's when he came after Ashur." Rock nodded. That certainly made sense. Back in Venezuela, they had neglected to mention Ashur's words to Wolf. They knew it would be a lot to process, but they never imagined it would send the assassin on a killing spree. And none of them imagined it would lead to what had transpired here earlier today.

"Goddammit," Revy groaned. "I thought he was done with all that shit."

"Just like you," Rock said thoughtfully, but he was not speaking to Revy. His eyes were on Roberta. The maid looked up to lock eyes with the Japanese man.

"Hm?"

"Just like you," he said once again. His eyes were wide and his heart was racing, but he needed to say this. His fear, even in the face of a seriously crippled Roberta who posed him no threat, was very real. "When you found out Garcia's father had been killed. You went after those men, you tracked them down, one by one. And you didn't stop." Roberta's cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze. Garcia, too, was clearly uncomfortable.

"So we got two Bloodhounds," Revy half-joked. "Great."

"Don't call her that!" Garcia snapped at her. The tension in the room seemed to rise noticeably.

"Give me a fucking break, kid," Revy spat, smirking maliciously as she dropped her cigarette, stomped on it and walked over to the Lovelaces. She stopped in front of them and placed her hands on her hips, bending over slightly to look Garcia in the eyes. "Your maid is a vicious little Bloodhound and you know it. Face it, 'Young Master', she's a cold-blooded killer and there ain't nothing you can do to change that, whether you like it or not." She stood up straight again and stared at Roberta. "Isn't that right, bitch?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Garcia screamed. Revy was at the end of her tether, now. Her mouth curled downwards like a dog's and she leaned forwards confrontationally.

"Hey, listen here, 'Young Master!' You think she took up a weapon again when Wolfy came calling because she had to? Because she really cared all that much about putting a stop to the warzone that was Roanapur? Bullshit. She started killing people again because she fucking liked it, and you know it. Face it, you little brat. Your maid loves the smell of blood. It's just who she is."

"You take that back! Don't you dare talk to Roberta that way!"

"Go fuck yourself, kid."

"Revy," Rock interjected, beginning to walk forward. He was not content to see the Lovelaces badgered so intensely, especially not after the emotional day they had.

"What?" Revy asked, her voice lowering considerably.

"Just ease up, okay?" As he neared Revy, she did something she would probably come to regret later, something that surprised even Garcia and Roberta. She grabbed one of her Cutlasses and pointed it at Rock, stopping him in his tracks.

"Listen, Rock. I'm only going to say this once so you better not make me repeat myself; stay the fuck out of this. Because if you even think about saying another word, you'll hit the ground before you can even piss your own pants. Got it?" He did not answer. As Revy turned back to the others, they simply shot her a look of contempt before leaving the room altogether. They did not need this, especially not from her. "Hey! Where the fuck do you think you're going?! We're not finished!" They continued until they were out of sight. Revy kept her Cutlass trained on Rock and her gaze in the other direction where the Lovelaces had been. Then, she lowered the gun and exhaled. "Goddammit. She still reeks of gutter mud. That fucking stench…it ain't never leaving that crazy bitch."

(*)

Revy emerged as the sun began to rise, its orange glow sprinkling across the waters around them. Wolf was sitting in the Lagoon's crow's nest, his arms resting on the steel railing around him. His eyes were on the city, Roanapur. Revy went to the edge of the boat as it approached the large Buddha statue.

"I imagine you're glad to be back," Dutch's voice said in her ear. In all honesty, it was probably him who would be happy to get away from the Mekong River. He hated that place, they all knew that.

"I don't know which is worse, Dutch," Revy replied. "Out there where you don't know what way is up, or this goddamn city. Feels like walking to the hangman's noose coming back."

"Easy, Revy," he said gently. "After Garcia pays us, he'll be on his way and we can forget about all this. I know you probably want to get back to the apartment and get some sleep." Revy folded her arms.

"Yeah. Sleep…that sounds pretty good right about now."


	22. Author's Note

By now I've updated the description with that "Book 1" bit. Yeah, I hope that was a nice little surprise for people who want more of my nonsense.

So, this story was a little experimental in the sense that it's less of one full linear story and more a bunch of little mini storylines. That was an attempt to make it more like the anime, as if the story itself is a season per se. Or at least that's the best I can explain it.

So it's cool if some people weren't feeling it, if you didn't like this new format that's fine, it's certainly a risky thing I'm doing. It might not work at all as a story but I sure as hell had a tonne of fun writing this.

And if you did like this story, there's more where that came from. I'm very excited about the next two stories, especially Book 3. There are some hella ideas I hope to use in that particular story. So if you're still here, I hope you'll join me for one last ride with Lagoon Company.

It's going to be a good one.

I promise.


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